


Catch Me If You Can

by Lexathorn



Category: Catch Me If You Can (2002), Frozen (Disney Movies), Frozen 2 - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - FBI, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crimes & Criminals, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Pilots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23415469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexathorn/pseuds/Lexathorn
Summary: Elsa Mary Aren is spending her life running from her past and her broken family, committing various forms of fraud across the country. The diligent FBI agent, Maren Nattura, has been tasked to follow the paper trail of the elusive fraudster and put her behind bars for good. The two get swept up in a game of cat and mouse that can only have one winner. [Enemies to lovers ;)]This is based on the movie "Catch Me If You Can" with Elsa as the fraudster (Leo DiCaprio's role) and Maren as the FBI agent of the cheque fraud department (Tom Hanks's role). Inspired by all the 'Elsa tax evasion' memes on twitter.
Relationships: Anna/Kristoff (Disney), Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 103





	1. Prologue- April to June 1964

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has to take place in the United States for the plot to work, so Arendelle is a relatively wealthy American town somewhere in the New York/ New Jersey area.  
> This is a pretty new and big challenge for me, so I hope I've done the task justice.

_Present Day - 1968  
Federal Bureau of Investigation, 26 Federal Plaza, NY_

“My name is Elsa Mary Aren. From 1964 to 1967 I successfully impersonated an airline pilot for Pan Am Airways and I flew over two million miles for free. By the time I was caught and sentenced to prison, I had cashed over six million dollars in fraudulent checks in 26 foreign countries and all fifty states, and I did it all before my 25th birthday.”

Elsa confidently said the first lines of her introduction as she looked at her new co-workers in the room, her posture straight and her hands clasped behind her back.

Part of her had expected snickering from her listeners. Another had expected malicious gawking and spit in her coffee. But as she met the gazes of the men and women gathered in the tiny conference room, she identified that none of the emotions that these people bore behind their eyes were ones of disdain. Instead, they showed her respect. They showed her attention. They hung onto every spoken word that she put out for them, served, signed, and sealed for them to trust if they wanted to.

With Elsa, things could change in an instant- were you too slow, too easily distracted, or even too overconfident, you could miss it. That moment she switched from playing her game to exposing her winning card. Just like that, you lost your chance.

She leaned forward on her arms on the desk made of steel. It was cold under her fingertips. The feeling made her fingers arch slightly, like a kitty cat with its claws out. Her autocratic stance matched her serious tone while also being reminiscent of the arrogance that resided in her during her worst of times.

Elsa continued her introduction, “And I’m going to help you solve every case that comes through this office and catch every fraudster that dares to steal under our noses…”

Her eyes flicked around the room as she spoke but when she landed on one pair of eyes in particular, her sentence trailed off. Hazel brown eyes stared back at her, the thoughts and emotions in that devilish head sealed under lock and key to even the best people readers. The woman who had changed her life. The woman who had brought her here. The woman who had driven her mad day after day. The woman who had chased her to the end of the Earth and back.

The woman who had saved her.

Elsa stood up straight again. Any egotism she had been carrying fell from her face like a broken mask. She spoke the last words she had been meaning to say, had those brown eyes not suspended the words from spilling over the apex of her tongue.

_“… if I can.”_

.  
.  
.

_Prologue_

_4 Years Ago - Spring 1964_

_Arendelle Gentleman’s Club for Businessmen_

Elsa Mary Aren, 21 years old, was a cool girl, a popular girl, and a girl with a famous name in her hometown of Arendelle in the United States of America. She was the girl with the pinkest of pink lipsticks, the whitest of white gowns, and a singing voice that could knock the argyle socks off of any man in her vicinity. She and her sister, Anna Elizabeth Aren, always proudly stood by the side of their parents, renowned property owners, Agnarr and Iduna Aren. Elsa wanted to become a part of her parent’s work. By making all the calls, doing the scheduling, and managing the filing cabinets at their real estate office she had one foot in the door already. But she wanted _more._

At that very moment, the two girls beamed up at their father from their table of honor at Arendelle’s one and only rotary club as he was called on the stage to receive his lifetime achievement award in business and marketing.

“Thank you, thank you,” his deep voice boomed over the applause when he spoke into the microphone at the podium. “I am honored. So honored, to be bestowed this incredible award.” While he recited his speech, the wide palms of his hands grasped onto the golden accolade firmly as if it was a lifeline. He only removed one of his hands from it once when he gestured to his family.

“And to be here today, with the apples of my eye, the pearls of my oyster, the brightest stars in my life… my wife and two daughters. Please, stand up you three.” At that, the three Aren women looked at each other bashfully. Iduna was the first to rise ushering the girls up out of their seats as their father continually beckoned them to stand from the podium.

The crowd applauded and cheered again as the three of them took their places next to Agnarr. In order from left to right, Agnarr; the man of the hour, Iduna; the dutiful wife, Elsa; the prodigal daughter, and lastly, Anna; the perfect social butterfly to tie the family together. At their place in the spotlight, Elsa reached for Anna’s hand. Elsa squeezed it tight and as she looked out at the gathered crowd, she couldn’t help but make a pact with herself that one day she would make her father proud like he made her proud.

.  
.  
.

 _Arendelle – Home_  
Elsa and Anna were sat curled on the couch. They were watching their parents dance in each other’s arms, waltzing around the room. A slow but light melody played from the phonograph. It was an expensive antique, that her father had said he had found in the rubble after the war. He remembered saying it was the most valuable thing he owned not because of its worth but because it reminded him of the time when he had next to nothing. The phonograph in his grasp, his hands dusty and covered in cuts after rifling through the ruins of the city for survivors, was a symbol, he had said. A symbol of a new dream, real enough to be able to touch. A dream for a life where he didn’t have to be poor or hungry ever again.

Agnarr turned to his two girls, not stopping the way he twirled their mother around and around.

“Do you remember how I met your mother?” he asked for the millionth time.

Anna groaned jovially. “How could we forget? You tell the story constantly.”

Elsa spoke up swiftly from her perch, “It was during the spring month of April. It was during the war when you were stationed just outside of Arendelle, at a village in the woods.”

“With the Northuldra.”

“And you were protecting the land from the battles of the war.”

“And there you met mom who was a Northuldra foot soldier and the first thing you said when you saw her was-“

“If all our soldiers were like her then this war would be won in a day.”

Iduna threw her head back and laughed, just like she had on that day when she was introduced to the unfamiliar man.

“And look at us now,” said Agnarr, looking deeply into his wife’s eyes, his voice laden with memories. “I’ve gotten so, so lucky.”

.  
.  
.

“Elsa-“ Agnarr threw open the door to her bedroom.

“Father?“ She looked up from her book.

“Let’s go, let’s go. You’re coming with me today,” he called as he bounded to the front door, setting a rimmed hat straight on his head.

Elsa followed out the door after him. “Coming with you? To where?”

He turned to her, his silhouette framed by the light shining in from the open door.

“We’re getting you a suit.”

.  
.  
.

_Arendelle - Gerda’s Tailoring_

Agnarr pulled the cream-white Cadillac with silver Dayton rims and metal side trim up to the curb in front of the tailor shop. When they approached the old fashioned, small business a ‘closed’ sign stared back at them, hanging from the door.

Agnarr raised his fist and pounded on the glass.

“Hey-o!! Hellooo?!”

Elsa looked back and forth between him and the closed store.

“Father, I don’t think that’s-“

“ _Aha_ -” Agnarr grunted victoriously as a shadow emerged coming from the back room. Gerda neared them at the entrance and opened the door a sliver’s amount to tell them the shop was closed for the day.

“Please. My- my daughter, Elsa and I, want to get a suit for her today. The finest that you have.”

“Sorry, sir. There’s nothing I can do for ya.”

“ _Please._ I have an important meeting today and my daughter needs to look a certain way for it. In a room full of men like that, it’s hard enough for women as it is. I want things to be different for her. Don’t you understand that, Gerda?” 

Elsa almost had half a mind to tell her father to drop it, that they could come back to the store another day. That she was grateful that he thought of her to begin with.

But to attend an important meeting with him today in town? The thought alone excited her enough that she ended up deciding to hold tight of her yap and see how Gerda would react.

Gerda sighed and looked as if she might cave to his anxious praying for a moment but instead, she straightened up and said, “Can’t you read the sign? We’re _closed_.”

Before she could shut the door, Agnarr shot his hand out, sliding his fingers between the door and the frame. She looked at him with an annoyed expression, as if he was a mosquito sucking her of every last bit of her patience. If only a man-sized fly swatter existed for such sources of irritation.

“Hold on there, Gerda. I know this is a longshot, but I was just over there and, on the sidewalk, I found this beautiful, _beautiful…_ ”

Agnarr held his clasped hand out and from his hand fell a jewel necklace, dangling by its chain wrapped around his finger.

“…necklace that must have slipped right off of your neck earlier.”

Gerda looked at him and the necklace from behind the glass of the shop door, eyes locked on the ruby in the center of the ornate jewelry piece.

“What do you say, Gerda? Must be yours, right?”

.  
.  
.

Elsa emerged from the tailoring store fitted in a sleek black suit, complete with slacks, suit vest, blazer, and tie. The way she felt was indescribable. She felt newfangled. Modern. Absolutely, strappingly confident. She turned to the shop and looked at her reflection in the glass, still basking in the feeling of reveling at herself like she had been moments ago in the mirror at the store.

This was her stepping into the saddle. It felt like the beginning of her time to become who she wanted to be.

Then, Elsa looked down at her feet and suddenly questioned if it was appropriate to be wearing her usual heels with the outfit.

As if reading her mind, her father rounded the car from the trunk with a pair of Oxford shoes in his hands.

She took them from him wordlessly. It was the passing of a torch. He put one hand on her shoulder and simply asked her, “Do you know why the Yankees always win, Elsa? It's because the other teams can't stop staring at those damn pinstripes that they have on their uniform.”

With that, he opened the passenger side door, and instead of gesturing for her to sit in her place, he took the seat.

From his spot, Agnarr told her that she would be to be driving them to the meeting today.

“But father,” she said. “I don’t know how to drive.”  
.  
.  
.  
Elsa kept her foot steady on the gas pedal, gingerly turning the wheel when she needed to and keeping her eyes on the road.

“Turn here- yes, right here. Pull up to that red fire hydrant.”

Elsa did as she was told and was proud to say the car barely lurched when she stepped on the brake.

“Now listen to me,” starts Agnarr. He handed her a pair of gloves, sunglasses, and a rimmed chauffeur’s hat. “Put your hair up in a bun and then put these on.” She did as she was told. “Good, now what you should do is get out of the car and open the door for me. Don’t draw attention to yourself and sit back down. Wait for me here until I come back out.”

“Father, what are we doing here?” Elsa asked him confused.

“I have a meeting with the bank today. Just some small things to sort out. I hired the wrong man to do my books. Just do what I said-“

“What about the other meeting you were talking about at Gerda’s?” Elsa’s heart pounded in her chest.

“Oh. Oh, that, that’s nothing. There is no other meeting.” He started to look back and forth between her and the bank door, taking note of the guards.

“So, I’m not supposed to be taking part in more of the business. I thought that-“

“We can finish this conversation later, can’t we?” Agnarr checked his watch. "I don't want to be late. It wouldn't look good."

Elsa looked at him and pressed her lips together. She pushed the sunglasses up to the bridge of her nose and exited the car. She walked around the shiny bumper of the Cadillac and took the handle of the passenger door in her gloved hand. She opened it and stood up straight, her other arm folded, the unoccupied hand at her back.

Her father stepped out of the car and put his own hat on his head. “Later,” he promised, looking her in the eyes and then he made his way to the doors of the bank.

Elsa closed the door and reclaimed her seat at the driving wheel, doing just how she had been told.

.  
.  
.

“Sir, there’s an issue with our ability to grant you the loan you have requested.”

“I don’t see how there could be any issues.”

“Well, sir, we don’t generally give loans to folks who have open cases with the IRS.”

“Oh that, I assure you, that’s nothing. You see, I hired the wrong man to do my books. Honest, simple mistakes were made.”

“I see, sir, you’re also not a client at this bank. There’s no account under your name. Where is it again that you live?”

“In Arendelle.”

“In Arendelle- I’m sure your local branch could be more helpful to you about acquiring this loan.”

“My local bank went out of business. It’s hard out there for a lot of people right now, not just me, I understand that. They’re threatening to foreclose all of my properties. Everything I have and everything I’ve worked for. What am I supposed to do when the interest rates keep climbing up and up? I’m just trying to get ahead of this- this _storm_ , this _monster,_ because I have a wife and children that I have to think about. Can’t you help me? I’m a war veteran and I just received a lifetime achievement award, I’m a father for Pete’s sake! I’m better than this.”

“I’m very sorry, sir, but this bank can’t take on a case as high risk as yours. But I wish you luck, and you take care, sir. Take care.”

.  
.  
.

_Oaken’s Cars, Cars, Cars!_

Elsa watched as her father handed over the keys to their cream-white Cadillac with the silver Dayton rims and metal side trim in exchange for a used, dented, brown Chevy Impala. Oaken, the car salesman handed Agnarr the cheque for the Cadillac and shook his hand. Agnarr patted the man on the back before approaching Elsa and waved the cheque at her with a somewhat pained, yet reassuring smile on his face.

He put one hand on the roof of the car, patting it as caringly as he could. It was obvious to both of them that the dented exterior and the stuffing spilling out one of the seats was much different from what they were accustomed to.

“It’s only temporary,” he promised.

Elsa hummed.

“But of course, the Cadillac isn’t the only thing that needs to go. We need to return the suit, Elsa.”

Elsa’s gaze at her father turned sharp, then desperate.

“Not the suit, father. Please.”

“We all have to make sacrifices. Anna’s switching to public school. Your mother has taken up two jobs. Of all the prices to pay, this is one that I think you could afford.

For the good of the family,” finished Agnarr.

Elsa closed her eyes and looked down. Her father was right. Ever since his properties foreclosed, including their own house that she had grown up in, her need for the suit had depleted to none in a short time. There were no more ‘meetings’, at least not the kind that Elsa had been hoping for.

Solemnly, she nodded.

It was a small price to pay. And it was only temporary.

Agnarr lifted his hand and stroked her cheek affectionately.

“But I do have some good news.” From his inner coat pocket, Agnarr pulled out a brand-new cheque book, filled with blank cheques.

“I opened a chequing account for you in your name. And a quarter of this money-“ He waved the cheque from Oaken, “is going to go straight into your account today.”

“ _A quarter_? But father, can we afford that?”

Agnarr hushed her. “Don’t you worry about a thing. We are going to rebuild this family together. I can promise you that.”

Elsa took the book into her hands. With her thumb, she flipped through the individual cheques. Her name was printed on each one.

It wasn’t quite as good as having the suit, but it would do.

_.  
.  
._

Elsa walked alongside Anna, having met her sister at the library to walk her home. At almost 18 years old, Anna was struggling a lot with fitting in at her new school. Luckily, she only had a few weeks to go until graduation.

“We’re pretty under the water financially so I can forget about going to college,” said Anna disappointedly.

“I know that working for 2 or 3 years isn't what you’ve always had in mind but it’s for the good of the family,” Elsa parroted their father. “It’ll build character which looks really good on college applications,” she said as she poked Anna in the ribs.

“Maybe so. Only Ahtohallan knows.”

“ _Ahtohallan_ ,” said Elsa in surprise. “I haven’t thought about that song in years.”

Anna shrugged, “I don’t know if it comforts me or makes me feel sad about how much has changed since we were kids.”

Elsa linked her arm with Anna’s. “I know things seem grim now, but father keeps saying that it’s only temporary. We have to trust him.”

Anna sighed, “I hope he’s right.”

They approached the walkway to their- now much smaller and more humble- house in a cul de sac. The two sisters entered the house and Elsa threw her keys into a bowl on the table in the kitchen, which was in the same room that functioned as the living room. For the first time since they were 7 years old, Anna and Elsa shared a room at the back of the house while her parents had the adjacent room.

It was from there that Iduna suddenly emerged with a man in tow.

“That’s all- just two bedrooms. Our old house feels like a castle in comparison but we’re managing fine. _Oh,_ girls, I didn’t hear you come in. This is Frank Abagnale from the Gentleman’s club, one of your father’s friends.”

Elsa shook his hand and Anna waved from where she was drinking a glass of water by the sink.

“Nice to see you two again,” said the man politely.

An awkward silence hung in the air. Elsa didn’t remember the man at all. She didn’t recall any of her father’s friends being named Frank or ever having met him at the rotary club.

“Well, so, thanks again for stopping by,” Iduna said as she led Frank to the door. “I’ll let uh- Agnarr know, that you- you came by.”

Something silver caught Elsa’s eye on the coffee table. She picked the objects up- two pins - and turned to catch Frank before he left.

“Wait- your cuff links,” she called to him.

“Oh, thank you.” He gathered them and tipped his head to her in appreciation. “These pesky things are always falling off.” 

When Iduna closed the door after his departure, neither Elsa nor Anna said a word, simply staring at each other, an unspoken conversation happening between them.

“Are you girls hungry? I can make you both some sandwiches.” Iduna scurried to the refrigerator pulling out the ham, cheese, and sliced bread. When she was buttering the bread she was jabbing the bread so hard that she was doing more harm than good. She more so was tearing the slices rather than spreading the fatty butter over the surface accordingly.

“Why are you two so quiet all of a sudden? All day, every day you two are chattering away.” She chuckled, “What’s the matter with you?”

Anna took one of the finished sandwiches and took a bit out of it. She offered it to Elsa who wasn’t meeting her eyes anymore.

“I’m not hungry,” is all she said before she walked away, closing the bedroom door behind her.

.  
.  
.

“Why would mother cheat on father?” whispered Elsa to Anna in the middle of the night. They lay side by side; Anna having crawled into Elsa’s tiny twin bed moments earlier so they could talk away from any prying ears.

“Why do you think?” replied Anna instantly.

When Elsa just shook her head and shrugged, Anna’s eyes grew big, bearing an emotion that looked something like pity. For who? For Elsa?

“Can’t you see it? Mother is angry at father for ruining our lives.”

“Ruining our lives??” asked Elsa incredulously. “He’s trying his best to save us from this.”

“We’re only in this situation now _because of him_.”

Elsa shook her head defensively again. “So, he made a few mistakes-”

“He committed fraud!”

At her sudden volume, Anna winced and they both listened for any rustling from the other room, hoping they hadn’t woken anyone.

When the coast seemed to be clear, Anna continued, “Father tarnished his reputation. And with that our mother’s too.”

“But _cheating_?”

“Things haven’t been smooth between them for a long time.”

“How have I not seen any of this coming?” asked Elsa.

“Sometimes we don’t want to see the things we don’t want to believe,” is all Anna could offer her. The real truth would have been too hurtful to say or, at least, Anna didn’t know how to say it without it sounding hurtful.

Elsa was blinded by how much she looked up to their father. Either he somehow could manage to turn this situation around…

Or they had to accept the idea that their father had become disreputable. Elsa had to warm up to this thought more so than Anna at that point. Iduna clearly had had enough of Agnarr already.

“Are you going to tell father about Frank?” asked Anna.

“ _No_ , ‘course not. It would break his heart.”

“Maybe it would be for the best if he knew. _I_ would want to know in his position.”

“I can’t make that decision for you but please, Anna, don’t do that. It will only make matters worse. You can forget about college forever if you tell him.”

Anna hummed, seeming to mull that argument over.

“I just don’t want mother _or_ father to be unhappy.”

“Neither do I. But they’re adults who can sort themselves out.”

Anna at least nodded at that. She kissed Elsa on the forehead once before skittering back to her bed.

“Good night, sis.”

“Good night, Anna. I hope… I hope this all turns out for the better.”

“So do I…”

.  
.  
.

_July 1964_

When Elsa returned to the house from picking up groceries, she found no one in the main living area and kitchen. She set the bags down on the counter and noticed a men’s jacket on the couch. Half expecting ‘Frank’ to be in the house again, she made her way to the bedrooms.

Then the door to her shared bedroom with Anna opened and a stranger greeted her. All at once, too many things were happening too fast. She walked into the room and saw Anna sitting on her bed with tears streaming down her face. She wasn’t just crying, she was _ugly-crying_ which meant that this, whatever it was, was bad.

“Elsa, Elsa, Elsa,” she heard her name over and over falling from the lips of her mother and father and quietly from her sister on the bed. She ignored everyone but the girl in front of her who seemed so small and shrunken, and hugged her tight, as she cried into Elsa’s shoulder.

“Anna-“

“Elsa, do you hear me-“

“ _What_?” Elsa snapped and whipped her head around at the unknown man. “What is going on?”

“I’m a divorce lawyer-“

 _Divorce._ Of course, the word was in her vocabulary, but it had never affected her life in any way, shape, or form. Once, a kid named Charles was taken out of school unexpectedly in grade 3 to live with his dad in the Southern Isles while his mom stayed in Arendelle alone, having lost him in the custody battle.

“Your sister has decided that she will go with your mother. You’re already over 18- this isn’t about custody, but you still have to decide who you’re going to live with.”

_“You should pick me, Elsa.”_

Elsa looked to her father who was standing still, regarding her closely.

“What?”

“I said, you can take a few days to decide.”

“Anna wants you both to stay together,” interjected her mother.

“She can decide on her own. Why do you need to rush it? W _hy do you need to rush it?_ ” repeated Agnarr at Iduna.

Is this the way he always spoke to their mother, wondered Elsa? Was this just one of the many things that she had not been noticing?

“Elsa, I’m scared.”

“It doesn’t make sense for them to be apart, Agnarr.”

“Do you think I’m going to let you take not one, but _both,_ of my daughters away from me?”

_“Why is this happening?”_

.  
.  
.

Before she knew it all she could feel was the wind blowing through her hair and the burning of her legs as she ran.

She ran and ran and ran.

Away from that situation. Away from all the verbal pushing and the suffocating tears that caught in her throat.

Her feet pounded hard on the tarmac of the street. Her cheque book slapped against her thigh again and again in the front pocket of her skirt, having used it to buy the much-forgotten groceries. Passing more and more of the glowing streetlamps that lined her path made her run even faster as it signaled to her that she was getting further and further away. The wind blowing against her face dried the tear tracks down her cheeks. What had finally broken the dam behind her eyes weren’t the angry looks on her parents’ faces as they argued or the finalized divorce papers on the coffee table. But it was the way Anna had called out her name over and over from their front door after Elsa had taken off down the street without looking back.

She told herself she wasn’t running away. She told herself she would make her way home soon after she got this out of her system. She just needed a moment to herself.

Alongside that, her father’s voice echoed in her head.

_"This would only be temporary."_

She burst through the door of the train station, passersby and travelers giving her funny looks. Her heels slid across the slick, marble floor as she rounded the corner, and headed straight for the ticketing booth.

“One ticket for the next train to Grand Central Station, please.”

“One way or roundtrip?”

“One way.”

“Three dollars and fifty cents, miss.”

Elsa paused, finally catching her breath.

“Is it okay if I write you a cheque?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maren is gonna get introduced in the next chapter.  
> The rest of this is gonna be less Agnarr heavy. It was necessary here for the setup.  
> Eventually, the plot of this fic will deviate more and more from the original movie since the Frozen world and eventual romance makes many of the circumstances different.  
> Usually, I don't ask this but let me know what you thought. As I said, this is a big project for me and I wanna know how people are responding to it. I'll post the next chapter probably tomorrow.


	2. July 1964

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, this story isn't adjusted for inflation. $300 in 1964 is equal to $2,494 in 2020. So, when money comes up in the story, remember that the number you see is actually worth 8 times more than it appears.

_July 1964  
__Times Square Hotel,_ _15 W 45th St, NY_

_“OPEN UP!”_

Elsa jolted awake at the sound of loud pounding knocks on her door. She threw on one of the hotel robes over her pajamas and went to the door.

“Yes? Is there something wrong?” she asked the short, pudgy man in a suit in front of her.

“The cheque from two days ago bounced. That’s the second time. I told you what would happen if you can’t pay.”

“Wait, sir-“

“Get your things and _get out_.”

Elsa sighed and returned to her room. She shut her small suitcase closed and slid the robe off her shoulders, placing it neatly on the bed. In her pajamas and with nothing but her briefcase-sized suitcase in hand, she exited the hotel room, no longer being able to overstay her welcome.

She tipped her head at the man as she passed. “Sorry to bother you.”

“For God’s sake, woman,” he jeered. “ _Get a job_.”

.  
.  
.

_Royal Towers Motel, 230 W 50th St, NY_

Now sitting in a decrepit motel room that had water stains on the ceiling and dead flies in the windowsill, Elsa sat on the only chair in the room at a tiny desk. She was looking down at the finished letter in her hands.

_Anna Aren  
12 Rose Hill St.  
Arendelle 07970_

_Dear Anna,_

_You must be worrying about me right now. I’m okay and I have some money to get by. How are things at home? How are you?? I know, if I had stayed, I would know the answer. So, I’m sorry for leaving like I did. I’ll be back soon. I just needed to clear my head._

_I keep trying to explain how I feel and nothing I write makes any sense._

_I hope you’re okay._

_For the time being, you can use the address of this motel to reach me._

_Love,  
_ _Elsa_

She folded the letter and slid it into an envelope. She dabbed her stamp on her tongue before applying it to the white paper material.

Elsa set the letter aside, fully aware that the contents weren’t nearly enough of an explanation for her sister. But at the moment, it would have to do.

She directed her focus to her next problem; The cheque book on the desk, of which, her last two cheques had bounced back.

Meaning, the small booklet was useless to her.

Now, it was just paper with nothing of worth attached to it.

With her chin in her hands, she thought and thought. She stared at the blank cheques, their faint yellow hue, crisp corners, and the weighty feel of their paper, not like papyrus but more like thin cardstock like what was used for Anna’s scrapbook at home.

All Elsa had besides these blank cheques was her personal ID card in her wallet. She took it out from her suitcase and a pair of scissors.

With the scissors, she cut around an inscription on one of the blank cheques.

_“Authorized by Chase Bank Manhattan.”_

Elsa snipped the parts away around the word ‘Chase’, leaving just a small, rectangular piece of paper with the word printed on it. Then, she put a dab of toothpaste on her fingertip and evenly smeared it on the back of it.

Carefully, she placed the paper down over her middle and last name on her personal ID. She picked it up, examined how the fonts and color matched to the naked eye. Deciding that she was satisfied that it passed as her real ID, she switched the table lamp off and went to bed.

.  
.  
.

The next morning, sunlight streamed in from the window, hitting her warmly in the face. Roused from the unfortunate angle of light, Elsa blinked her eyes open.

It had been 7 days since she ran away from home. She had told herself that she would head back to Arendelle once she ran out of money.

Yet, here she was. Her account was running thin and she was making no moves to leave the city.

She wondered where mother and Anna had to be living now. Were they still at home, looking for new places to live? Was mother sleeping in her bed that she had left vacant with her sudden departure?

Or had her distraught exit saddened her parents so much that they decided to make up and keep the family together?

No. Elsa knew the latter was the least likely possibility of all. If anything, Elsa’s running away had left the family more broken and fractured than it had ever been before.

After entering the bathroom, she first washed her face before undergoing her routine. She hadn’t bought any new clothes besides her pajamas in the effort to save money. Her day clothes that she had run away in dried overnight on the towel racks after having washed them yesterday. Elsa also ran the shower last night until there was no more hot water – which admittedly wasn’t very long - because the steam that filled the room helped keep the clothes from wrinkling.

Now, she pulled them on; her white short-sleeved blouse and her tan-colored skirt. She did her hair in a neat bun. She was dressed like her ordinary self but on the inside, she felt like a stray. 

Outside of the motel, she gathered up two or three piles of newspapers that had been thrown at the doorsteps along the street. Then, she headed for a busier neighborhood with shops and markets.

“ _American_ _divers snag gold at the Tokyo Summer Olympics! Read all about it!”_ Elsa shouted at passersby, holding one of the newspapers up for all to see. “ _Breaking news of the day: President Lyndon B. Johnson signs the Civil Rights Act! 10 cents apiece- Don’t miss out on the latest news!”_

Someone tapped Elsa on the shoulder.

“I need to get one of those, miss.”

She looked at the willing customer. He wasn’t one of those men that were common on these streets like the wall-street types or taxi drivers. The man in front of her was a pilot. He had a hat on his head with golden plane wings pinned to the front. He was in a suit-like uniform. The cuffs of his jacket were embroidered with golden stitching. She could just make out his eyes from behind his aviator sunglasses.

“Of course. That’ll be 10 cents.”

The man handed her a dollar and told her to keep the change. With his newspaper in hand, he returned to his awaiting group of stewardesses, elegantly dressed in Pan American standard blue. Two of the women linked arms with the pilot and they meandered into an adjacent hotel together.

Elsa followed them to the luxurious hotel. The doorman tipped his hat at the pilot as he opened the door for him and his crew.

“Excuse me,” Elsa said suddenly. “Do you know that man? The pilot?” she asked the doorman.

“No. Don’t need to know him to know he’s just one of those airline jackasses.”

Elsa nodded at his comment strangely and went inside.

The flight attendants around the pilot were like a gaggle of hens. Workers from the hotel roamed around the Pan Am crew, offering them drinks and taking their luggage for them. The scene took Elsa’s breath away.

As she made her way back to her motel room, she decided she wouldn’t go home just yet.

She wanted to try to become an airplane pilot. 

.  
.  
.

 _Elsa Aren  
Royal Towers Motel  
230 W 50th St  
_ _NY 29702_

_Elsa!! You waited seven days to write, have you lost your mind??? I was worried sick! I still am! How soon is “be back soon”??? Please come home immediately. I don’t like going through this separately. And I don’t like the thought of you being out there all alone. Don’t keep your distance, okay?_

_Mother and I found an apartment to live in. We moved in yesterday. Mother and father haven’t spoken since the day they finalized the papers. I know father would love to hear from you. You should call him._

_This is the number for our new apartment 908-898-0012._

_Let’s talk about those feelings of yours, alright??_

_I’m here for you._

_Anna_

.  
.  
.

_Pan American Airlines, 2 Park Ave, NY_

“Hi, my name is Elsa Fitzgerald. I have an appointment with um, Mr. Darling.” Elsa offered her hand to the young woman in glasses at the front desk.

The woman took it but tentatively asked, “And what was it that you’re meeting him about?”

Without missing a beat Elsa said, “I’m with the school paper from Woodruff High in Dixon.”

“Oh, that’s right. Silly me, I remember speaking on the phone with you. He’ll be ready for you in just a second.” Then, she leaned in close to Elsa with a twinkle in her eye. “Just between you and me, there’s a lounge for all the pilots on the 7th floor. Maybe you can ask Mr. Darling to take you up there.” She winked suggestively and Elsa quickly caught on to her implication.

“Thanks for the tip. Wonder if any of them will catch my eye,” she pretended to care smoothly.

The secretary looked behind Elsa and smiled. “Here’s Mr. Darling now.”

.  
.  
.

“What airports does Pan Am fly to and what does a pilot make in a year and how much training does it take?”

“Woah, slow down, kid. You caught me before I managed to get my coffee this morning,” joked Mr. Darling.

His office was nicely decorated with a big window looking out onto the street full of bustling people and cars. You could see the flags blowing on the side of the building opposite. A leather seating area took up most of the open space in the office alongside the man’s desk and bookcases.

Elsa sat in front of him at his desk, with a visitor’s badge pinned to her shirt.

“Let’s take the questions one at a time.”

“Okay.” She looked down at her notes. “What does it mean when a pilot is deadheading?”

“Deadheading is when a pilot gets a free ride on a plane so that he can be in the right place to go on his next job. Say a pilot was at home in New York and he needed to be in Chicago to pilot a flight the next day. He could go to the airport and deadhead on a flight to Chicago to be there in time to do his job.”

“And what about those ID badges that pilots wear?”

“Well, every pilot needs to have two things with them at all times. They need their employee badge from Pan Am like mine here-“ he showed her his, “and they need their FAA License.” Mr. Darling paused to retrieve a paper from his inner coat pocket, handing it to Elsa for her to inspect.

“Wow,” Elsa remarked as she looked at it. “Hey, do you think I could make a copy of this for the school paper?”

He chuckled. “Hell, you can keep that one. It’s three years expired anyway.”

“And your ID badge?” asked Elsa hopefully.

“Sorry, there are no spares of those. The only way to get one is through special order from Polaroid. They make all the employee badges for Pan Am.”

“Okay,” Elsa nodded, jotting that down. “And are there any female pilots?”

At that the smile dropped from Mr. Darling’s face, replaced by a contemplative expression.

“Come to think of it… I’ve never personally met one. But… _sure_ , sure _._ There must be.”

“And what would a female pilot wear?”

He stared up blankly, shaking his head in thought.

“That’s not a question that I can answer.”

.  
.  
.

_Payphone – Park Ave, NY_

_“Pan Am, how may I help you?”_

Elsa cleared her throat. “Uh, hello, I’m calling about a uniform.”

_“Hold for Purchasing.”_

Elsa listened to the line click as it transferred to a different department.

“ _This is Snow from Purchasing_.”

“Hi there, Snow. I’m in a tough spot, unfortunately. I’m based out of San Francisco. I flew a flight into New York last night, but the problem is I’m headed to Toronto in three hours without my uniform because the hotel lost track of it when I sent it for cleaning.”

_“They lost it?”_

“So they say. And now I can’t be here twiddling my thumbs, waiting to see if it turns up.”

_“I understand. These things happen all the time. Go down to Bellview and Broadway to our uniform supplier. I’ll let them know you’re coming. Now, they told me yesterday they’re short on flight attendant uniforms in M. Would an S or L work for you?”_

“I’m sorry but, you’re mistaken. I need a _pilot’s_ uniform.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“ _Oh_. Well, in that case-“

“They have pilot’s uniforms for women, right? I mean there are female pilots out there,” Elsa chuckled.

“ _Sure, sure. ‘Course. Just head on over there and they’ll sort you out in a jiffy.”_

_.  
.  
._

_Pan American Uniform Supplier, 4 Bellview Ave, NY_

“You look too young to be a pilot,” said the fitting man in the store.

“I’m a co-pilot,” answered Elsa convincingly as she stood in front of the dual paneled mirror, looking at twin reflections of herself.

The man closed the front buttons of Elsa’s blazer. “How’s that? It feel too tight?”

Elsa shook her head. “Snug as a bug.”

“Snug as a bug,” the man repeated blithely. He grabbed a pen and filled out the invoice form for the uniform. “That’ll be $150.”

“I’ll write you a cheque,” said Elsa as she stared at her reflection. It felt so much like that day at Gerda’s.

“No cheques, no cash. You have to give me your employee ID number and I’ll send the invoice to Pan Am. They’ll take it from your next paycheck.” He handed her the pen and the form.

“Even better. Thanks for all your help today, sir.”

The man brushed her off in a friendly manner. “Just leave that form here when you’re done.”

Elsa smiled to herself. She copied Mr. Darling’s ID number onto the invoice from the expired FAA License that he gave her. She signed the form as Elsa Chase and punctuated it with a heart.

.  
.  
.

_Royal Towers Motel_

Elsa knocked on the manager’s door. “Hey Flynn, do you think I could use your typewriter again? I want to send a letter to my sister.”

Flynn rolled away from his desk.

“Be my guest. How’s the job search going?” he asked her casually. Over the last few days, they started greeting each other when they crossed paths and made small talk in the lobby.

“It’s going really well. I think I’m going be starting at Pan American Airways really soon.”

Flynn gaped at her for a second before congratulating her, “That’s amazing.”

“Thanks. I’m really excited about it.”

“I would be too if knew I could get out of this dump,” commented Flynn woefully. 

From the lobby, they heard someone ring the bell.

“Duty calls.”

Elsa gave him a sympathetic smile as he excused himself and left the room.

Elsa took his previously occupied seat and put the items on the desk that she had been holding in her hands.

She flattened her visitor’s badge on the table, complete with a Pan Am insignia. She took her pocketknife and lightly scratched away at the word “visitor.” She scraped the paper away just enough that the black text was lifted from the paper. Then she took a pencil and rubbed the eraser end against the etchings to smooth them over and remove excess paper fibers.

At the library, she had made a copy of the photo on her personal ID card which she now took and carefully glued to the badge, glad she had forgone the toothpaste this time. Then she took the badge and stuck it into the typewriter.

“ _Elsa Chase,”_ she wrote. “ _Co-pilot. Employee #FAA21284008232.”_

Later, in her room, she pinned the badge to the lapel of her uniform and placed her pilot’s hat on her head. She checked herself once in the mirror before leaving and locking the door behind her, packed suitcase in hand. The last thing she did before leaving the motel was, she threw the key to her room into Flynn’s mailbox with a note saying goodbye.

_.  
.  
._

_Plaza Hotel, 768 5th Ave, NY_

_“_ I’d like to check into a room,” Elsa said from where she casually leaned against the front of the counter. Her hat was off, held between her arm and waist. Her hair was up in a professional, tight bun.

The man at the counter turned around to face Elsa and momentarily balked at the sight in front of him.

“Oh, yes. If I could see your personal ID please.”

After Elsa handed him the card, he flipped through the ledger for available rooms.

“We have a nice room with a view of Central Park on the 20th floor. Would that do Miss…” He looked down at the card. “Miss Chase.”

“That would be lovely.” She smiled charismatically at him.

“And how would you like to pay?”

Elsa removed her forged employee badge from her lapel and handed it to him.

“I’m a company pilot for Pan Am. You can bill the airline, can’t you?”

He returned her smile. “Of course.” He jotted down her employee number and personal information, all forged at this point.

Elsa asked prudently, “And say I was to order room service and drinks, would the company cover those costs as well?”

“Absolutely. You will be well taken care of here, ma’am. How long will you be staying?” He returned her items and placed a shiny key on the countertop.

“Oh, not very long, I think.” She placed her hat back on her head. “I’m always on the move.” She was about to turn away with her belongings in hand when a question occurred to her.

“I’m sorry but, do you cash cheques here?”

“Yes. We cash personal cheques up to $100 and payroll cheques up to $300.”

Her eyes grew slightly wide at that.

“Did you just say _$300_?”

.  
.  
.

Elsa was sitting in her hotel room, urgently clacking away on a typewriter that she rented from the hotel. Next to her on the table was a stack of blank payroll cheques that she had just bought from an office supply store.

“ _PAY TO THE ORDER OF: Elsa Chase……………………………………….. $.........299.12_

_Two hundred ninety-nine and 12/100 DOLLARS_

_To: Elsa Chase_

_Employee #_ _FAA21284008232 ”_

She took the forged cheque out from the typewriter, holding it up to the light. Then she got up and moved to the bathroom where her bathtub was full of water. In the tub, she had submerged a Pan Am model airplane from a hobby store. Now, she took it out and peeled the Pan Am logo off of the tail of the plane with a pair of tweezers.

Carefully, she glued it to the top left corner of the cheque, completing the last step of her forgery. She held it up in front of her again and her eyes twinkled. It was like holding a winning lottery ticket. 

By that night she had finished forging the stack of blank payroll cheques, having bought out the hobby store of all of their Pan Am planes. Gradually, she cashed the fake cheques at the hotels she stayed at and at various bank tellers and post offices. Even some grocery stores cashed out cheques. By the end of the week, Elsa traded the small suitcase she had found in a dumpster for a brand-new suitcase and more clothes. She bought a briefcase solely to stuff it full of the money that she got from cashing fake payroll cheques. She still used her old cheques occasionally to make quick payments like at corner stores, overdrawing her account that had no more money in it. The cheques, she knew, would bounce, so it was best she was never seen at those places again. She was aware though, that she wouldn’t be able to use the old cheques forever for her scheme.

.  
.  
.

_Chase Bank Manhattan, 2099 Broadway, NY,_

Elsa walked into the bank with stride, belly in and chest out. She was in her best heels – her only heels mind you – red lipstick, and a flowy but still conservative dress. But best of all, her hair was down, held in place with a wide headband.

She walked past each bank teller seated at their place behind the counter. She passed a woman with a large beehive hairdo, an elderly woman with a hooked nose, and a man with a large mole on his chin.

They weren’t what she wanted. She was a shark looking for the fattest kid in the pond.

Then, at the last seat behind the counter was her man.

His name tag read ‘Milo Thatch’ _._ He was clean-shaven, wore large glasses and a red bowtie. He looked pretty young as told by the red acne on his cheeks and neck.

Elsa walked right up to him and took a seat. “Hi.”

He wore a surprised but then cheerful expression on his face as he took her in.

“How can I help you today?”

Elsa deliberately glanced at his nametag. “Well, Milo- can I call you that, by the way?”

“Oh yeah, sure!” he said delightedly.

“First of all, I want to cash a cheque.” She handed him a Pan Am payroll cheque. “And while you’re doing that I was wondering if you would consider asking me to dinner tonight.”

At that, his eyes grew wide, stunned.

“Uhhhh…”

.  
.  
.

_A day later  
Chase Bank Manhattan, 2099 Broadway, NY _

“We feed the cheques through the MICR machine. The machine reads the magnetic ink and then sorts the cheques by numbers.”

“Interesting.” Elsa put her hand on Milo’s shoulder as they stood in the back room of the bank at the machine in question. “What do the numbers mean?”

Milo held up a cheque for her to see. He gestured at numbers towards the bottom. “These are called routing numbers. These numbers route the cheque to the issuing bank so that the money can be removed from the right account.”

“You’ve taught me so much, Milo.” Elsa gave him a pat on the shoulder and gathered up her things. “I’m afraid I have to get going.”

“How about dinner again tonight?”

“I’m sorry, I would love to, but I have a flight to catch.” She waved at him and before he could blink, she was gone.

.  
.  
.

_John F. Kennedy Airport, NY_

With her suitcase and briefcase in tow, Elsa got out of the taxicab and made her way into the airport. Garbed in her pilot’s uniform, she nodded politely to the people she passed by, her self-assured smile grew each time the men and women around her cast her obvious looks of admiration.

She walked up to the counter of American Airlines and addressed the attendant, “Hello there, I’m a co-pilot for Pan Am. I was hoping you had a fight to Miami today that I could deadhead.”

“Let me check that for you.” She typed away at the keyboard of the huge monitor in front of her. “You’re in luck. There’s a jump seat open on a flight at 1. It’s a little tight but you’ll still make it. I’ll ring the pilots and let them know you’ll be coming. Can I see your personnel ID from Pan Am?”

Elsa handed it over. The woman took it into her hands and glanced it for only a second before furrowing her brow at it in confusion.

“Is something the matter?” Elsa asked, sweat suddenly pooling on her skin under her clothes.

“Didn’t they laminate it before they gave this to you?” she asked.

Elsa looked at the badge quizzically. “N-no. No, they didn’t.” Then she chuckled, “I guess because it’s my first week on the job they gave me a temporary ID. Yeah, actually, now I remember them saying that Polaroid needed extra time on their order so I should just sit tight and use that.”

“Ahh,” the woman smiled in understanding. She passed the badge back. “Well, then, I wish you a pleasant flight, Miss Chase.”

“Thank you.” Elsa tucked her badge away, deep into her pocket and looked around, chuckling. “Actually, uh, like I said, first week on the job. Where exactly am I supposed to go?”

The attendant jovially shook her head and laughed. “Here, I’ll show you. Just follow me.”

A short time later, thanks to the help of the wonderful attendant at the American Airlines counter, Elsa was boarding the airplane. She was greeted by one of the stewardesses, a cute woman in a matching grey skirt and top. She had a red, white, and blue stitched scarf around her neck, embroidered with two _A_ s, and a dainty hat on her head to complete the uniform.

The woman’s eyebrow quirked, and her smirk was playful.

“Are you my deadhead?” she asked in a manner that could have been understood as seductive.

The stewardess, “Belle”, led Elsa into the cockpit of the airplane, where she greeted the two other pilots already seated. Belle introduced them all, “How are you guys doing? This is Elsa Chase, your deadhead for the flight. Elsa, this is Captain Eric and his co-pilot, Shang Li.”

Elsa stood in between them and thanked them for the ride. When the two pilots started making small chitchat, preparing for takeoff, Elsa stood there for a moment unsure of what to do next, not being able to find the jump seat.

Belle saw her distress and reached to open the proper compartment and folded out the seat for her.

“Thank you,” Elsa said awkwardly.

“Guess you’re more used to sitting at the controls,” laughed Belle.

As Elsa took the seat Belle asked one last question.

“And what drink would you like after takeoff?”

“A glass of red wine, please.”

After takeoff, Elsa unbuckled her seat belt and slipped out to where Belle was preparing drinks for the first class.

“Hello, deadhead. I was just about to come to you. Which wine would you like, Miss Chase?”

“Please, just call me Elsa. I’ll take a cabernet sauvignon.”

As Belle poured the drink into a glass, she remarked, “You know, this is my first time seeing a female pilot. It’s kind of inspiring if I’m being honest.”

“It’s nothing, really. To me, the uniform’s the best part of the job.”

Belle giggled, “I bet. I bet you turn every head in every room you walk into.”

Elsa was handed the drink and she took her first sip from it. “Why don’t you have one as well?” she asked, gesturing to the wine bottle.

Belle scoffed, “No, I couldn’t. I’m _on the job._ ”

“Alright. Then what about afterwards? We could have a little… girls’ night.”

Suddenly, Belle got quiet and bit her lip. “If you’re serious, I’ll take you up on that, Elsa.”

.  
.  
.

_South Palm Beach Suites, 1545 Collins Ave, FL_

Without consciously doing so, Elsa’s hands gripped the sheets beneath her tightly in pure pleasure. Gasps and sounds escaped her mouth that she hadn’t ever given breath to before. Belle’s head was buried between her legs. Elsa unraveled one of her hands from the sheets to place it on the back of Belle’s head, encouraging the woman’s rhythmic, cadenced movements with her tongue. Without ever letting up, Belle brought Elsa to a blissful high that had her back arching and hips careening in sultry motions. 

Her pilot’s uniform had been flung around the room in their drunken haste to get into bed earlier and in the back of Elsa’s mind, she made a note to have the uniform dry cleaned and steamed in the morning.

Belle slid up the bed and lay next to her. Elsa hugged the covers over her bare body closer, gathering herself after that passionate and mad experience.

As her breathing was leveling, Elsa asked, “Have you ever been to Miami before?”

“Plenty of times for work. Why?”

“Do you know where I can get dry cleaning done?”

Belle’s head fell back against the pillow and she laughed.

“That’s the first thing you have to say?”

Elsa chuckled coolly. “Sorry, it’s just- right over your shoulder I can see my blazer hanging off the chair and those uniforms are expensive, you know? I’m very sorry but we talked about how important it is to me,” she joked.

“Mhmm,” replied Belle, amused. “It’s okay to be flustered. When we’re out there we can show people whatever we want them to see. But in here,” she tenderly stroked the bedsheets. “You don’t have to be what they want from you.”

Hearing that, Elsa unstiffened slightly. She loosened her hold on the bedspread around her and swallowed thickly.

“Pretending is all I do.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Belle confessed quietly. “Will you let me… hold you?”

Slowly, Elsa nodded, and she shifted just enough to communicate that Belle could embrace her if she wanted to. Belle closed the gap between them, and they snuggled together, burrowed in their pillow-y, cotton-y fortress.

Away from the world. Away from prying eyes.

.  
.  
.

_Federal Bureau of Investigation, 26 Federal Plaza, NY_

“Our unknown subject is a paperhanger with a trail of fraud on the East Coast. In the last few weeks, this unknown subject has developed a new form of cheque fraud which I’m calling the float. Next slide.”

Agent Matthias stood at the front of the room, addressing his small ragtag team of fraud investigators. It included a pair of mischievous yet brilliant twins and an individualistic yet noble man from Arendelle. Their police dog, Sven, a large German Shepard dozed under the table at the latter’s feet.

Matthias continued, “What the ‘unsub’ is doing is, she’s opening chequing accounts at various banks under false names. And then changing the MICR ink routing numbers at the bottom of those cheques. Next slide, please.”

The projector made a noise in protest when Ryder pushed the button on the remote.

“It’s not working, sir.”

“This damn thing breaks once a month. I’ll do it by hand,” sighed Maren. She got up and manually changed the slide to the appropriate one. 

Matthias expounded onwards, “MICR scanners at every bank read these numbers at the bottom of the cheque. Next slide. And then, ship that cheque off to its corresponding branch. Slide. This map shows the 12 banks of the U.S. Federal Reserve. The east coast branches are numbered zero-one to zero-six. The central branches are zero-seven, zero-eight and so on, so forth. The west coast branches are one-zero, one-one, and one-two.

“If you change a zero-two to a one-two that means that cheque that was cashed in New York does not go to the New York Federal Branch, but it is rerouted all the way to the west coast to the San Francisco Federal Branch.”

Maren spoke up from the projector, “The bank doesn’t even know the cheque has bounced for two weeks, which means our unsub can stay in one place, paper the same city over and over again while her cheques circle the country.”

“Yeah. That’s right-

Maren interrupted, “She uses this form of fraud to stay undetected for longer. By opening bank accounts in various cities and using cheques that get rerouted all over the country she becomes incredibly hard to track. By the time the cheque is processed and determined to be a fake, she’s already long gone. Off to the next city.”

Matthias threw his hands up. “Do you wanna do my damn job, Nattura?”

The others in the room snickered, covering their mouths with their hands. Maren put her hands up apologetically, gesturing for him to continue.

Matthias turned back to the presentation. “Slide.”

When the meeting was dismissed, the group stood and gathered their things, filing out of the small conference room.

“Sir,” Maren started, walking her boss out, following him at a brisk pace. “I was wondering if you would give me the case.”

Matthias turned to look at her. “The unsub one? You sure you’re ready for that?”

“I’m sure. Look, I know I’m not the most experienced person in the office, but I know I can get this perp. Paperhangers always leave a paper trail, it’s in the _name_ ,” Maren scoffed.

“You can have it, but I will pull this case back from you if you don’t deliver on it asap. You get me?”

“I get it. Thank you, sir.” She clapped him on the shoulder in gratitude. “I want this fraudster to be _mine_. Whoever they are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elsa and Maren meet in the next chapter! <3


	3. August 1964 to January 1965

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maren finally comes face to face with her unsub and Elsa reconnects with her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad people have been responding well to the story so far. :) Here's the next part.

_South Palm Beach Suites, 1545 Collins Ave, FL_

Elsa lay on the hotel bed, still wrapped in the sheets. It was early in the morning and Belle had bid her goodbye only moments ago, needing to go back to the airport. Belle had offered to take a cab there together, but Elsa lied and said she had the day to herself before a red-eye flight later. With that Belle kissed her on the cheek, confessing that she hoped that they would see each other again, and walked out the door.

Now, from in the bed that was still warm, Elsa held the receiver of the phone to her ear, its coiled cord tangled around her hand. It had been a month since Anna had sent Elsa her new phone number. Elsa admitted to herself she had been slow to reply to the message in either written or verbal form. But she decided to change that today.

“Hello. This is the Aren residence.”

“Hey... It’s me.”

Elsa smiled into the receiver when she heard the familiar sound of her sister’s gasp.

“ _Elsa?_ Oh my- is it really you??”

“No, I’m an imposter,” she joked. “How are you?”

Anna laughed incredulously, “How am _I?_ Screw that- How are _you??_ Where have you been? Did you get my letter?”

“I got it. Sorry I… I know I should have called sooner. But…”

But what? Honestly, what was she expecting herself to say??

_Anna, I slept with a woman last night._

Or _Anna, I’ve started impersonating a pilot to abet my cheque fraud scheme._

“But I’ve been busy,” is what she settled on. “I’ve put myself to work. It seemed like the only logical thing to do since everything that happened. I’m going to start sending you money every month.”

“You’ve been working? Where? In New York?” Anna asked curious.

“All over the place actually.” Elsa closed her eyes before hesitantly delivering the bomb, “I’ve been training with Pan Am. It’s my first week as a co-pilot.”

Elsa’s eyes squeezed together when she heard another incredulous gasp that sounded vaguely also like a wheeze.

“ _What??_ How did you manage that? Oh, you have to tell me everything.”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell it another time. I have to be back at the airport in an hour,” she lied for the nth time that morning. “Tell me about you. How’s mother? Is she there?”

“No, but she’ll be thrilled that you called. I’ll let her know.” As Anna started to prattle about the whereabouts of her and their mother, Elsa rolled over, burying her face in the bedspread, listening to all she was missing out on.

“- I’ve been covering my co-worker’s shift. Last week I worked 50 hours instead of the normal 45. Is it normal for people to stay at home all day when their dog is sick? I don't know. But now I understand why they say retail is a nightmare,” Anna chuckled, finishing her rant. “I also babysit once a week for a family over on Fairview. Mother snagged a job as a hostess at Baker & Cook’s.” Then Anna sighed, “It’s been hard for her but she’s still on her feet. Even though most of her friends and the people at the rotary club have shunned her for the divorce.”

Elsa’s heart sank at that. “That’s awful.”

Anna hummed in agreement. Then she tentatively asked, “Have you spoken to father at all?”

It was Elsa’s turn to sigh. “No. I know I should call but…”

“Elsa… What’s going on with you?” Anna sounded genuinely worried.

Tears pricked the corners of Elsa’s eyes. She held the phone away from her mouth and took a deep breath.

Then, “Nothing,” she said. “I think a lot was going on at home. A lot of promises were made that got broken.” She stopped herself before her voice started to waver.

“I felt like trash too, sitting there in our room by myself, listening to our parents argue. I really needed you, Elsa. I _still_ need you.”

Elsa nodded, while her heart broke at the way Anna’s voice clearly got choked up. Elsa imagined Anna sitting alone, silently crying herself to sleep, and she knew she had to get off the phone fast or else she would start hating herself for what she had done.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. When I’m in New York again, I’ll take a train to Arendelle and visit you.”

“What do you mean when you're back in New York?” Anna’s voice was evening out. “Where are you?”

“Miami,” Elsa answered. “I’m probably not going to be in New York again for awhile but… I’ll keep calling you.”

“You better,” demanded Anna. “I don’t want to wait weeks in between hearing from you.”

“Yeah. Me too. We’ll talk again soon.”

After they said their goodbyes, Elsa returned the phone to its place on the end table. She continued laying there, sitting still for the first time in what felt like weeks.

She hated lying to her sister. It was why she had avoided calling her for so long. Eventually, it had been the guilt that spurred her to pick up the phone and dial the number. And knowing that in a situation where the roles were reversed, she would have been furious if Anna disappeared for weeks without saying a word.

She would go home again, she told herself. Once she had stolen enough money to send Anna to college and pay off her parents’ debt. She needed to be doing what she was currently doing.

With these thoughts in mind, she pulled herself out of bed and put herself to work.

.  
.  
.

_4 Months Later, November 1964_

Elsa was traveling around the country, always getting from place to place by deadheading for free. She never stayed in one place for longer than two weeks, knowing that frequent movement made her harder to follow. She had multiple fake names and addresses assigned to her chequing accounts. As promised, she was sending Anna and her mother money every month. She was currently in Las Vegas, already on her 14th day of stay. It was time to move again.

Unbeknownst to her, the FBI had long caught wind of her fraud scheme. And one agent, in particular, was close on her tail.

_Route 592, Las Vegas, NV_

Kristoff laughed from the passenger’s seat, “So, get this. Back when I was an officer at S.W.AT., we geared up for a protest going on that day at the town hall. But a blizzard had come through so the protest organizers canceled the event. Well, we were already geared up and suddenly had the afternoon free, so we took our riot shields and went sledding on them. Works surprisingly well!” 

Ryder quipped from the backseat, “Oh man. I totally have to try that...”

Then Maren spoke up, “I want to ask you something. If you were having so much fun at S.W.A.T., why transfer to cheque fraud?” Her eyes were directed forward, focused on driving.

Kristoff shrugged, “I didn’t transfer. I was reassigned. They said it was because cheque fraud was understaffed.”

Maren nodded at that. Cheque fraud didn’t get the same spotlight from the press as other forms of law enforcement like the police or homicide investigation. But she liked it at cheque fraud. It was important for her to do work that had meaning. And to be frank, she wasn’t ignorant- she knew that a lot of people commit crime to get by. Which did occur in cheque fraud but her favorite fraudsters to go after were people who didn’t necessarily need the money but couldn’t resist taking the risk to expedite their profits even _more_ , illegally. And she loved the chase. Piecing together a paper trail really put her mind to work and she was in the office until late at night often.

There was one specific unsub who kept her up at night the most these days. A cheque for a bigger sum of money recently bounced at an antique shop in Las Vegas alongside a cheque at the hotel _Bally’s_. She had set out with her team to investigate, hoping the bounced cheques would be linked to her unsub. She made a right turn on Route 592, also known as Flamingo Road, onto the dazzling Las Vegas Strip.

In the casino hotel, the group of three strode up to the check-in counter, showing their FBI badges.

Maren asked, “You wouldn’t happen to still have any cheques from the guest, would you?” 

“I was going to deposit this one today. Here,” said the hotel manager, a man with a round face and thin mustache who’s name tag read, “Mr. Cogsworth.”

Maren took it and eyed it carefully.

“I don’t want any trouble,” said Mr. Cogsworth, glancing between the three agents.

“Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure this person is harmless,” she told him placatingly. “When did she check out?”

“Oh, she’s still here.”

Maren’s gaze snapped up at him from the cheque. “What did you just say?”

“She's set to check out today but has not done so yet. You might still catch her in room 540.”

Maren gaped momentarily. “…Thank you.” And then she sped off, with Kristoff and Ryder following her hastily.

She urgently pressed the ‘up’ button at an elevator. “Okay… okay. This is what’s going to happen. Ryder, you should guard the elevators down here and search every person that comes out until I’m back. And Kristoff, I want you to wait in the car and have the ignition on in case we need to chase the unsub.”

The two men agreed so when the elevator doors opened, she practically threw herself into it.

Once on the 5th floor, Maren stalked down the hallway in search of room 540. The closer she got, the more her heart thumped, almost pulsing in her ears. Her tie around her neck felt like it was smothering her.

.

Meanwhile, inside room 540, Elsa finished buttoning the jacket of her uniform. She checked her pockets for all her ID’s and then put a pair of sunglasses and her pilot cap on. She picked up her briefcase and her typewriter case that held her MICR machine and switched the light off with her shoulder.

.

Maren turned left into another hallway, following the ascending gold plated numbers on the room doors.

_537, 538, 539…_

Just when Maren laid her eyes on the right room, the door suddenly opened, and a figure emerged.

Maren inadvertently froze, stunned, at being face to face with the person she had been meticulously tracking and tracing day after day.

Her unsub smiled and politely nodded at her which brought Maren out of her daze-like trance.

She took out her badge and presented it. “I’m from the FBI and I’d like to ask you a few-”

Maren stopped short when all of a sudden, the unsub launched her typewriter case at her, before booking it down the hallway. Maren reacted fast, catching the item, but grunted under the weight of the machine and dropped it with a loud clang. She started running and reached for her walkie talkie, calling Ryder for backup.

.

Before she knew it, Elsa was being chased. The FBI was the last thing she had expected from the gentle-looking woman, who was now hot on her tail. Elsa rounded the corner at the end of the hallway and kept furiously running, in the direction of the elevators. Before she could hold onto it, her hat flew off her head, landing on the carpeted floor.

One of the elevators dinged and a couple stepped out of it. Elsa ran right in between them, causing shouts of annoyance to erupt from the pair. Ignoring them, Elsa jabbed the ‘close door’ button over and over with her thumb.

.

Still sprinting down the hallway at full speed was Maren. “Son of a bitch!” she cried when she rounded the corner at the end of the hall, just managing to see the elevator doors closing shut and her perp standing inside, huffing and puffing from her run. Their eyes met for half a second, the perp’s gaze hidden behind her shades.

And then the doors closed, and the fraudster suddenly had a significant lead on her in the chase.

Maren reached the elevator, head spinning. She desperately called for Ryder with her walkie talkie.

“Please tell me you haven't left your post yet.”

Then, one of the elevators next to her dinged and she saw Ryder walk out, oblivious.

“Maren? Where’s the unsub?” he asked, confused.

Maren shoved him into the elevator. The seconds it took for the doors to close and the elevator to start descending were torturous.

She swallowed thickly. “I might have let her get away.”

“You did _what_?”

Maren exasperatedly dragged her hands down her face and groaned, “This can’t be happening.”

“Who are we looking for? Maren??”

Maren shook her head, getting her head straight again. “A woman. Five foot seven-ish. Blonde, long hair. Wearing a uniform of some kind. Possibly navy.” She gingerly rubbed her belly. “She chucked a typewriter at me. Can you believe that? A full scale, 40-pound, typewriter machine.”

When the elevator reached the first floor, Maren’s eyes scanned the surroundings like a hawk. She vigilantly looked for a dark blue suit and blonde braid.

Then, just in between the sea of hotel guests, she miraculously saw a pair of sunglasses looking over their shoulder while walking away.

“There!” Maren shouted. “That’s her.” Together, the two agents darted after the perp.

“FBI! Stop!”

.

Elsa expertly weaved in between the guests of the hotel, using the bulky slot machines for cover. She raced this way and that, trying to lose the assailants. People she passed looked at her with concern painted over their features, coming from the way she was obviously running away from something. When she passed a gift shop, her hand shot out and snatched one of the baseball caps on a rotating vertical rack. She tucked her braid into the back of her jacket and slapped the hat onto her head.

.

“Goddammit,” Maren cursed under her breath. She was losing ground on the perp. Too many people had come in between them.

“I still see her!” called Ryder, his height giving him an advantage.

.

Elsa’s ears twitched at the sound of the male’s voice booming across the casino floor. She took off into a sprint, pushing past people who were in her way, her briefcase still firmly in her hand. She made an abrupt left, dashing across the casino. In front of her was _Lumière’s Kitchen_ , a French restaurant that was part of the hotel. She dove into it, shutting the door behind her and made her way through the restaurant. It had an exit in the back that led to their outside seating area. Elsa used this as her escape. She pulled the brim of her baseball cap lower over her face as she walked into the sunlight, stopping only at the street to get into a cab.

.

“Jesus, fuck-“ Maren kicked the slot machine to her right, a swell of quarters suddenly spilling out.

Ryder approached her, catching his breath and eyeing the overflow of coins. “Not the big win we were hoping for.”

The perp was long gone, hidden in the sea of people and luminescent slot machines.

It was not going to be fun explaining this one to Matthias in the morning.

.  
.  
.

_Federal Bureau of Investigation, 26 Federal Plaza, NY_

“It was stupid. I- I admit, that things could have gone better,” Maren phrased delicately. 

Matthias sat across from her at his desk, watching her cooly.

“I’m gonna make you an offer right now. Maybe it’d be best if you just forgot about this entirely. There are hundreds of unsubs out there. I can take you off the case and pretend that this never happened.”

Maren shifted in her seat uncomfortably, thinking it over.

“No _–_ I can get her. I’m sure of it. What happened was… unfortunate. Did I tell you she threw a _typewriter_ at me-“

“You mentioned it on the phone-“

“I’ve found out since then that it _wasn’t_ a typewriter, it was a MICR machine. Even better! That counts as evidence, right? I’ll have it checked for fingerprints. And, come on, the worst thing a paperhanger can do is show their face.”

“I read the report. Your brother recounted that the perp wore sunglasses”

Maren’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “Yeah…” She beguiled, “But even so, the perp looked right at me. I would recognize her. And also-“ Maren picked up the hat from the scene of the chase, “she left this. We could test it for DNA. It’s definitely a clue.”

At that, for the first time during the conversation, Matthias began nodding, rediscovering some of his lost faith in the agent across from him. 

“Just… be careful. This is your _last_ chance.”

Maren let out a sigh of relief.

“I mean it, Nattura. You’re putting yourself into a dangerous position.”

“What position is that, sir?”

“The position of potentially being humiliated.”

Maren pressed her lips together and nodded once.

When the conversation was over, she left with the hat in hand and she gazed down onto it. Her fingers toyed with the golden wings pinned to the front. She dearly hoped this would make the unsub easier to find.

Regardless, she had a hunch that this was going to be the chase of her life.

.  
.  
.

_Arendelle, NY_

Elsa drove her rental car past the sign that aptly read, “ _Welcome to Arendelle_ ”. The radio was on and she idly tapped her index finger to the music. She admitted to herself that Vegas had been a close call. _Too close_. She decided it was only logical to lay low for awhile.

Her headlights shone through the light flurry of snow that fell from the sky as she pulled into the parking lot of Baker & Cook; a bistro-style restaurant in town. More importantly, it was where she would meet up with Anna and her mother, after months of being AWOL.

The light from inside the building shone brightly, casting little rainbow sparkles on the surface of the fallen snow. Winter was her favorite season and snow was a big part of that. The combined gentleness and intensity inherent in snow from its light flurries to harsh blizzards appealed to Elsa. She liked it when things were more than just one holistic thing.

She walked into the restaurant, her arms hugged around herself from the cold. The bell on the door notified the employees of her entry and she barely had time to pause before the hostess left her podium and enveloped her in a hug.

“Elsa... Welcome home,” her mother said warmly.

Thanks,” Elsa exhaled, and she rested her chin on Iduna’s shoulder, savoring the moment all she could. Elsa wore an emotional expression on her face. She momentarily chastised herself. Why had she been depriving herself of this for so long?

But when she pulled back and looked over her mother’s shoulder and spotted Anna at a table, she remembered why. Being away meant being able to do _more_ for the people she cared about most in the world.

“Anna’s already waiting for me,” Elsa murmured practically to herself.

Her mother nodded and placed a hand on her back, guiding her to the table.

At seeing her, Anna jumped up and seemed to bounce on her toes for a second before surging forward and hugging Elsa tight.

“It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s so good to see _you._ How was the drive? Were the roads safe?”

They sat down together, and their mother promised to join them later once her shift was done. But Elsa didn’t miss the way her mother constantly looked over at them from tables that she was serving, an indescribable emotion painted across her features.

“I have a surprise,” Elsa started. Anna looked at her expectantly, a smile on her face. “I’m staying in Arendelle until New Year’s Eve. I took time off work to spend the holidays with you and mother.”

Anna put her menu aside to momentarily put her hands over Elsa’s. “That’s _amazing_. I know how important your work has gotten for you-“

“ _No_ , you guys are what’s important to me. That’s _why_ I’m doing whatever I can to support you both. Which unfortunately includes being away a lot,” Elsa said solemnly.

Anna nodded at what she was hearing. With a smile, she said, “It’s going to be great. We’ll play in the snow like when we were kids. We’ll decorate the house.”

“Make gingerbread cookies,” Elsa continued for her. Gradually, some of the paranoia that Elsa carried on her shoulders every day melted away at the sense of normalcy that being with her family was giving her.

Later, from in between bites of steak tartare, Anna unexpectedly announced, “I met someone recently.”

Elsa quirked an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised by the news. “Oh really? Who’s the lucky guy?”

Anna shook her head, seemingly trying to backpedal on her declaration. “Just some guy named Kristoff. It’s nothing serious. We’ve just gone for a coffee a few times. I don’t know if he really likes me that much.”

Elsa scoffed at that, “How couldn’t he? Tell me about him. What’s he like?”

“I don’t want to- It’s not a big deal.” Anna sheepishly looked down at her plate.

“You clearly like him! I’m not letting you hold out on me,” Elsa chuckled while picking at her salad with her fork.

“Well, alright,” Anna conceded and then like an outpouring of water from a broken dam rattled off fact after fact about the mysterious - “it’s not a big deal” – man named Kristoff.

“He has a dog named Sven who is huge but so _cute_ and goofy. He has a government job that keeps him pretty busy. He doesn’t have parents which is _so sad_. His best friend is a guy named Ryder who also works with him in the office, which is in New York City by the way. And he cuts his hair himself with a barber’s razor- don’t ask me why, he just has his quirks. But that’s kind of… exactly why I like him.” Anna finished by saying, “But like I said, we’re totally not a ‘thing’.”

Elsa blinked. “Wow. Well, let me know when you do become a ‘thing’ and I’ll save some vacation days for the wedding.”

Anna rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “We’ll see what happens.”

A comfortable silence overtook the table, filled only by the clinking of their cutlery against their plates.

Then, Elsa began slowly, “I’ve spoken to father a few times. I’m going to meet with him face to face in a few days.”

Anna nodded while drinking from her water. “Good- he’ll be so happy.” She set her water down. “I’ve been thinking… what if we convinced mother to invite father over for Christmas?”

“Do you think she would agree to that?” asked Elsa.

“Maybe? I think it’s worth trying.”

“Do you see him regularly?”

“Oh, just once a month. Things are awkward. Though he’s never accused me of picking a side, it must have hurt him that I decided to live with mother.”

“Why _did_ you choose mother?” asked Elsa inquisitively, realizing she had never thought to ask.

At that Anna paused before saying, “I think found it difficult to agree with the decisions father had made for the family.”

Elsa considered this. “You mean…”

“The tax fraud,” stated Anna. “I just… thought he had more integrity than that.”

Before Elsa could respond, Iduna walked up to the table, announcing that she had hung up the work apron for the day. Elsa put a smile on her face as their mother joined them and the conversation shifted naturally to other things. But she didn’t forget what Anna had said.

.  
.  
.

_12 Rose Hill St, Arendelle_

“Do you want any coffee?” offered Agnarr, holding the thermos over Elsa’s cup.

“Yes please,” she replied.

As Agnarr served her the beverage, she looked around the living room while sat on the couch. The small house looked largely the same since leaving it the previous summer. Her father had decorated it slightly differently, with Iduna’s colorful plants replaced with things like his old football from college or his helmet from the war.

“Thanks.” Elsa picked up the cup and took a sip from it. She noted that the coffee was too bitter.

She set it down and started simply, “How have you been, father?”

Agnarr shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve been fine. Better now that you’re here. I wanted to tell you, I’m so proud of how you’ve been supporting your mother and sister.”

Elsa dropped his gaze, smiling modestly. “I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”

“I know. And that’s how I raised you. I was worried when you ran out of here that night but now, I see I had nothing to be worried about.”

At that Elsa pressed her lips together. “Father, did you ever wonder why I ran away?”

“No, because I knew why, Elsa. People only run from things that scare them. That’s what your sister and your mother thought when you left. But I know you better than that, dear. I was always sure that you didn’t run away from us. You were running _towards_ something greater.

And I knew that one day you would come back,” Agnarr stated resolutely.

Elsa swallowed thickly. “I didn’t,” she admitted.

“Here,” Agnarr raised his cup of coffee. “A toast to my eldest, the best pilot in the sky.”

Elsa clinked her cup against his, albeit heavy with a feeling of incongruity.

“I have to ask you something. If you believe in me so much… why did you never trust me with more of the business?” Elsa asked, voice unwavering.

Agnarr clasped his hands in front of him. A glimpse of the man he once was flashed through her mind’s eye at that moment. “By the time I wanted to, there wasn’t a business left to involve you in.”

Elsa closed her eyes and shook her head. “I was out of school for three years and for three years all I did was the secretarial work. You promised I would get out of that job. Why did you wait so long?”

“I was going to do it. I give you my word,” Agnarr tried to assure. 

Elsa stared into the ‘brown-ness’ of her cup on the table. Ripping off the band-aid, she asked, “How are things with the IRS?”

“Oh, well… you know how the system is. They want money, of course. I- uh, haven’t been able to pay off all of it yet.”

Elsa put her hand to her chest. “I have money now. You know, I could help you. Like I’m helping Anna and mother.”

"I appreciate the offer but I can handle this myself."

"Why don't you have any sugar for the coffee?" Elsa abruptly questioned sharply.

"What?" Agnarr looked at her quizically. 

"There's no sugar," Elsa pointed out. "When we had money, there was always sugar. Anna refused to drink her tea and coffee any other way."

"So, I've had to cut back on a few needless expenses. Did I ever tell you the story of the two mice that fell into a bucket of cream?” Agnarr asked suddenly.

When Elsa replied no, he told the story, “Once, there were two mice who fell into a bucket of cream. The first mouse drowned but the second mouse struggled so hard that he churned the cream into butter and crawled out.” He looked Elsa in the eyes. “Which mouse am I?”

“…The second one,” Elsa responded with a troubled expression on her face. “That’s a dark story, father. What about the third mouse who helped the other two escape?”

“And do you want to be that third mouse, Elsa? Is that what you’re suggesting here?”

“I… I just want you to have a free life again. You could see it like, me helping you to churn the butter a little faster.”

At that, Agnarr seemed to hesitate for the first time during their talk.

“If I was to agree to this it would just be until I get back on my feet.”

“Of course,” Elsa smiled at him encouragingly.

He nodded. “Alright. Thank you, Elsa. By the way, I appreciate the postcards you’ve been sending me. Did you see, they’re pinned on the fridge in the kitchen.” Elsa knew what this was; A peace offering.

“Yeah, I saw. There will be more coming so, save some space for them.”

“I will,” he promised.

.  
.  
.

_4 Weeks Later – New Year’s Eve_

_Federal Bureau of Investigation, 26 Federal Plaza, NY_

It was late at night. Maren sat at her desk in the office, alone, sipping her tea from her mug that said, “Reindeers are better than people”. She was absentmindedly flipping through a binder of evidence that she had received that morning pertaining to a new unsub. It was minutes before the new year and being in the office meant that she at least had a good view of the fireworks from the building’s rooftop.

Just when she was about to close the binder and make her way up the stairs, her phone rang.

She answered it jokingly, expecting another agent, “Nattura here. The smart and good-looking one. Not the one who ate his own boogers until he was 18.”

A low chuckle came from the other end of the line. An unfamiliar voice said, “I’m not quite sure what that meant but I’m glad I seem to have the right place.”

Maren’s smile dropped. “Who is this?”

“You’re a hard person to find. I suppose that’s something we have in common, ‘ _Honeymaren’_. Nice name by the way.”

Maren straightened in her chair on high alert. “It’s you,” she declared.

“I’m sorry if what happened in Vegas was embarrassing for you,” the unsub’s voice practically purred into the receiver.

Maren shook her head resentfully. “No, not at all. In fact, our little encounter is going to make it easier than ever to track you down.”

“Is that so? Then, why am I not locked up already at this very moment? It's been _weeks_ ,” the unsub taunted her.

“I know you like to think that I must be on your case 24/7 but fortunately for you, it isn’t like that. I have dozens of other cases to deal with and the fraud department isn’t exactly overflowing with staff.” Maren internally chastised herself. _Why was she revealing all this information???_

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that you’re spread so thin. Is that why you’re working late on New Year’s Eve?” For a second, Maren almost thought that the unsub sounded genuine.

“I stayed back so the other guys could go home,” she admitted.

“ _Hmm_. How noble of you.” And just like that, the unsub’s smug tone returned.

“So, you clearly managed to find my name. Mind telling me yours?”

“Har har. Nice try.” The unsub laughed falsely.

“It’s only fair...” Maren urged, smiling somewhat superficially.

“Fine. It’s Susan. At least, that's what you can call me today.”

Sarcastically, Maren replied, “ _Sure_. I wonder why I bothered to ask. But, I'm glad you called because now I can tell you something that's been on my mind. You know, you left your hat in the hallway in Vegas. What I can’t figure out is, why the uniform? Are you a pilot?”

When unsub went silent on her end of the line, Maren wondered for a precious moment if maybe she was actually onto something and had caught the unsub off guard. She sipped on her tea, waiting for the reply.

“Let me ask you something, agent. Do you know what sexual roleplay is?”

Maren choked on her drink.

“W-what??” she spluttered.

The unsub chuckled faintly. “Happy New Year, Miss Honeymaren.”

There was a click, and the line went dead.

Immediately thereafter, Maren heard a loud explosion in the distance. She turned to the window, catching a glimpse of the first shower of colorful sparks, burst from a firework.

Maren put the phone back in its place, noticing that the clock on her desk indicated that it was, in fact, 00:00 on New Year’s Day, 1965.

The woman’s voice wasn’t what Maren had been expecting. It was slightly deeper and had a certain breathiness when she spoke especially when she had been challenging her. It seemed as if the unsub had called her just to tease her.

And, that last thing she had said about the uniform…

_Sexual roleplay???_

Maren sat there, alone in the office, completely befuddled as the unknown woman’s voice replayed in her head.

Dare she say that the conversation had been… _fun?_

Maren shook her head, turning off her desk lamp and started to make her way out. It was time for her to put the unsub, and any thoughts about her, to rest for the night.

If she could…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're halfway to the end! Stay tuned! :)  
> \- and stay safe and healthy


	4. February 1965 to November 1965

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maren gets closer than ever to catching the unsub and Elsa runs into a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added dates in the chapter titles to make the timeline overview clearer.

_Valentine’s Day, February 14th, 1965  
Federal Bureau of Investigation, 26 Federal Plaza, NY_

Maren walked into the office, prepared for another day of slugging it at her desk, searching for unsubs. It was the holiday of love, but there was no indication of it in the office minus the heart-shaped candies at the reception desk. Maren unwrapped the one in her hand now and popped it into her mouth.

At her desk, she opened a new case file. She knew she needed to focus. The more unsubs she could identify and catch, the less Matthias was hot on her heels regarding the unsub from Vegas. The one who had literally _invented_ a new cheque fraud scheme. Something about the way this unsub conducted her operation made her very elusive. And it bugged the shit out of Maren.

The MICR machine from the chase scene that they tested for forensics ended up being less valuable than she hoped it would be. While there had been fingerprints, none of them matched anything logged in the system. And the hat… while Maren still believed it was a clue, it had also been unhelpful thus far. Any strands of hairs from the cap had no DNA matches either.

And the icing on the cake was, the unsub jumped around from place to place randomly, with little discernable pattern. Over Christmas, there had been a stretch of time where her movements had been quiet. It being right after Vegas, Maren assumed she took the time to lay low. But she had a hunch that the perp had stayed in one place through the entirety of that quiet period. The happenstance of it being Christmas and sudden silence from the unsub potentially meant another clue.

The unsub had a family that they spent the holidays with.

“Agent Nattura,” a voice suddenly called her.

Maren looked up from a file. “Yeah?”

“My office,” said Matthias beckoning her to follow him.

Once there, he gestured for her to sit. Not beating around the bush, he said, “You know what this is about. What’s the progress report?”

“I’ve exhausted every lead that we have, sir. They’re all dead ends. It’s going to take more time to find her.”

“What about the DNA tests and fingerprints?”

“No matches in the system for either.” Maren helplessly shrugged. “The perp has never been caught before,” she said hoping that would help her case.

Matthias sighed and clasped his hands.

“This isn’t what I was expecting from you.” Maren gulped at his tone. “Can you tell me anything that might make me feel like you have a decent chance at catching this perp??”

Maren racked her brain for anything she could offer him.

“There is… one thing.” He looked at her expectantly. “She called me.”

“Who called you?”

“The unsub. At my desk on New Year’s Eve.”

Matthias gaped for a second. “She _called_ you _?”_

“Yeah-“

“To say what? To just say _hi??_ ”

“She called to taunt me about Vegas,” Maren admitted, irritated at the anonymous woman.

“Did she tell you anything useful??” asked Matthias animatedly.

“Well… I think we may be onto something with the cap from the hotel. I asked her why she had been wearing that and she almost immediately ended the call.”

Now, Matthias wore a slight look of approval. “You think she’ll call you again?”

“Maybe? I’m not sure.”

“Alright – Your request for more time has been granted.”

“ _Thank you_. You won’t regret it,” she assured.

“And the other thing I wanted to tell you is, I want you to clock out at 5:00. It’s not good being cooped up in the office the whole day. It’s a holiday. You should enjoy it.”

At that, Maren brushed off his concerns. “Valentine’s Day isn’t really for me.”

“Well, alright. But I meant what I said about not being cooped up in here.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Good. Now get out there and do your job.”

Maren stood and mock saluted before shuffling out the door.

.  
.  
.

Forgoing her boss’s advice, Maren stayed late in the office again. She was wondering if there was any way to lure the unsub out of hiding, who clearly had a mischievous and smug side. Maren questioned if the unsub got off on the fact that she was being chased. What if there was a way to elicit more of a response from the criminal, like by distributing ‘wanted’ posters around the ci-

The phone suddenly rang.

Maren’s gaze shot to it. The ringing sounded eerie to her ears and if her gut was reliable at all, she knew who was on the other end.

“Hello?”

“I called to wish you a Happy Valentine’s Day,” came the regal, yet soft voice of her perp.

“I’m flattered that you thought of me," said Maren sarcastically.

The voice hummed, “You seem to have a knack for working late on holidays. Not going on a date tonight?”

Maren laughed humorlessly at that. “Nope. It’s just you and me.”

“I’m not surprised that you’re single,” the unsub said. “A woman like you is intimidating to men.”

Maren chuckled for real this time. She couldn’t help but agree. “You know, there’s more to you than I expected,” she admitted.

“I would hope so. I’m more than just a pretty face.”

“How would I know? I’ve never seen your face.”

“You’ve seen enough of it I’m sure to placate whatever bosses and higher-ups you have that you could actually recognize me in a crowd.” 

Maren scoffed lightly, twirling her pencil with her fingers. “I bet I could actually.”

“Really? Then who am I? Hit me with your best shot.”

Maren mirthfully smiled into the receiver. “Well, I know that you’re female. 5’7-ish tall. Long, blonde hair. Approximately 25 years old. And a suspected egomaniac.”

The unsub murmured into the phone, offended, “I am not an egomaniac.”

“So, the rest was true?” Maren countered brightly, “Great, I’ll have the ‘wanted’ posters issued tomorrow.”

“How sad that you need to involve the general public in your search.”

The unsub had her there. But Maren needed to keep the woman talking. The longer they talked, the more likely it was that she revealed something useful to Maren.

“So, what’s your name?” Maren asked casually.

“ _Hmmm,”_ the unsub pondered. “Astrid. Can I call you Honeymaren?”

“Just Maren is fine.”

“Okay, ‘Just Maren’. Did you know that workaholics are three times more likely to die of heart disease?”

“You made that up.”

“I never make things up.”

Maren and the unsub both paused, before letting out breathy laughter. Maren covered her eyes with her hand as her body shook with genuine laughs. She quipped, “Do you always banter on the phone to people who want to throw you in prison?”

There was a long pause on the unsub’s side of the call, to the point where Maren started to think the unsub had hung up without her realizing.

“Only the cute ones.” Then the line was dead.

Maren gawked at the phone. Had she heard that right??

Maren sat back and like with the previous call, the woman’s voice replayed in her head.

Besides Ryder, no one in the office knew that Maren was gay. Almost no one in the whole _world_ knew.

But, for some reason, the unsub was flirting with her. It was a clear manipulation tactic. How the perp had known it would be effective was beyond Maren’s understanding.

In that moment, Maren steeled herself.

Two could play this game, she decided.

.  
.  
.

Public holidays came and went with no sign of the unsub. The criminal obviously wasn’t the type to consider Good Friday or Easter Sunday important. St. Patrick’s Day and April Fools were non-events, although Kristoff and Ryder pranked Maren enough times during the latter holiday that she frustratedly left the office _early_ for once.

The months passed by and Maren solved case after case, proving that she _was_ good at her job, earning her some breathing room between her and her boss.

But, upset at the lack of progress with her main case, Maren went into the office on the 4th of July, solely on the hunch that the perp would call today. She sat at her desk and occupied herself with the radio and work to pass the time. 

.  
.  
.

 _59_ _Fjord Blvd, Arendelle_

_The 4 th of July, 1965_

It had been a year since Elsa had left home and begun her fraud schemes. She sat on the grass at the park. Her open hair blew softly in the breeze that smelled like barbeque and hand sparklers. She watched her father at the grill and her mother at a picnic table, setting out salads and condiments. Anna was running barefoot across the grass, waving a blue chew toy as a German Shepard playfully followed after her. From where Elsa was, she heard Anna’s cheerful laughter when Kristoff snuck up behind her and enveloped her into a hug.

They were celebrating the holiday together by Anna and mother’s new apartment. Elsa, Anna, and Iduna’s combined incomes got them into a bigger place. Elsa had been there for almost two weeks already, having come to town for Anna’s 19th birthday in June on the Summer Solstice. She had surprised her sister, not telling her beforehand that she was going to be in Arendelle. And she had brought a brand-new car with her as a birthday present. It was for both Anna and mother to use, of course, but Elsa made sure it was a model that Anna particularly liked.

Father and mother had settled into a civil friendship. They mostly did it for their two girls and Elsa appreciated the effort they continually put into their family. Kristoff was a welcome addition in recent months. Anna’s insistence that he was nothing to fuss over had turned out to be inaccurate, as Elsa had expected. He was a nice man. And while his office job in the city kept him away during the week, he found himself in Arendelle on the weekends more and more.

By this time next year, if everything went to plan, Elsa will have gotten enough money to do all the things she promised herself she would do for her family. While looking out at the scene in front of her, she felt it deep in her chest that she was so, _so close_ , to having everything that she wanted. One more year. She could handle that.

After lunch, she got up and announced she needed to go inside for a quick phone call. But she guaranteed that it wouldn’t take long.

Inside the nearby apartment, she took the phone and sat down on the balcony chair. She put her legs up on the railing and dialed the number.

“Hello?”

“Happy 4th of July. Still a workaholic I see.”

“Still got nothing better to do on holidays than call a complete stranger?” the agent remarked back.

“Oh, I wouldn’t call you a _complete_ stranger. There are some things that I know about you. In fact, I would say that I know more about you than you know about me.”

“True, you can start sharing more by telling me your name.”

Elsa smiled at the familiar game that the two played. “Maria.”

“So, ‘Maria’. Where are you right now?”

“In my hometown actually.”

“And what are you doing there?”

“I came here to attend a birthday party.”

“Who’s birthday?”

“A family member. How’s your brother, by the way?”

“How do you know that I have a brother?” the agent suddenly sounded alarmed.

“You mentioned it the first time we talked.”

“Oh, right-“

“Do I make you paranoid, Maren?” asked Elsa seriously.

“No, in fact, I dare you to find out as much about me as you can. Let’s make this interesting.”

Elsa laughed at the challenge. “Shouldn’t be that hard. I reckon there aren’t that many ‘Honeymaren Natturas’ in the world. What kind of a name is that by the way?”

“That's none of your business.”

“It’s nice… Honey has a nice ring to it.”

She heard the agent sigh and knew she had gotten under her skin.

“I’m not like the guys in the office. Flirting with me isn’t going to be useful to you.”

“Who said that I was flirting?” Elsa mock asked.

The agent sighed even louder this time. “You know, it’s my 3rd year on the job and you are _by far_ the most annoying perp I’ve ever come across.”

“I will take that as a compliment. Agent Nattura… _why_ are you in the office?”

“I have a job to do because of people like you.”

“Well, I’m on vacation today. You should be too. _Go home.”_

Then Elsa hung up the phone.

.  
.  
.

_November 1 st, 1965_

Weeks passed that turned into months. Maren didn’t receive a call on Halloween like she had hoped she would. The lack of progress was starting to eat away at her at night in bed. Was she going to be chasing this unsub for the rest of her life? Fed up, she decided she needed to get more proactive. In the storage room, she dug through the evidence bins until she found the familiar white and blue hat with the golden wings pinned to the front. She tucked it under her arm and closed all the open boxes.

With some pages ripped from the phonebook in hand, she set out into the city.

She knew that finding someone who could identify the hat was a longshot. The hat could be from anywhere, any state, any factory.

But she had to attempt it and made her way to the places on her list.

_Costume Expo…………………………………12-1 Springfield Ave.  
Costumes and Mascots………………………8 Columbus Circle.  
Corporate Uniforms & T-Shirts……………32 Warren Ave.  
Custom-made Merchandise (CCM)………60 LaGuardia Place.   
Masks and More………………………………91b Madison Ave.  
Uniform Hub…………………………………1 Chatham Square.  
Uniform Supply Store………………………4 Bellview Ave._

_  
_ Maren had scoured the city all day, jumping into various taxi cabs and subway trains. Nobody that she asked recognized the cap. She had one place left to try but had half a mind to call it a day. But at least it was on the way home.

When she walked into the shop that looked like an airy, spacious warehouse with its high ceilings, an older man greeted her at the front desk.

She held her hand out, “Maren Nattura. FBI. I could use some help with a case.”

The man shook her hand and introduced himself as Guiseppe. “What do you need?” he asked, kind eyes behind his round glasses.

She held out the hat. “Do you recognize this? It was found at a crime scene, but no one can identify its origins.”

“Oh yes,” he said as he leaned in, pushing his glasses up further delicately. “I know this design. This is a special order, custom made for Pan American Airways. Come, see…”

Maren followed after him. They passed a tailoring station with a dual paneled mirror. He led her to the rows and rows of coat racks in the back. Copious amounts of long garment bags that protected the product inside hung on hangers on the racks. Guiseppe unzipped one of the bags and held it open for her to see.

There in front of her was a dark blue uniform. It had a coat, slacks, and a white shirt with pilot shoulder pads. And pinned to the shirt with a laundry clip was the exact same hat that she held in her hand.

Maren turned to Guiseppe. “Did a woman ever come here to buy this uniform?”

Guiseppe didn’t need to think twice. “Yes! She’s the only lady I’ve ever sold a pilot’s uniform to.”

“Did she leave anything? Like her name, or a cheque, or an ID?” Maren asked desperately.

“She gave me her employee ID number because I needed it to bill the invoice. But that must have been over a year ago now. I don’t have anything of hers to show you.”

“I see,” Maren nodded in understanding. “But thank you, anyway. You’ve been a massive, _massive_ help.”

.  
.  
.

_November 2 nd, 1965  
Federal Bureau of Investigation, 26 Federal Plaza, NY  
_

The next day Maren was in the break room, eating lunch with Kristoff and she couldn’t help herself from rambling about her findings.

“She’s a _fucking_ pilot. For Pan Am! It makes so much sense. It’s why she’s _never_ in one place.”

Kristoff hummed from where he slurped his soup, indicating that he was listening.

“What I don’t get is, I’ve been calling people at Pan Am all morning. From the secretary to the head of administration, to some guy named Chuck in hiring, and _nobody_ knows who I’m talking about. The few female pilots they have don’t fit the description.”

Kristoff dunked a cracker in his soup. “I could ask Elsa for you.”

Maren spoke around the bagel in her mouth. “Who’s that?”

“My girlfriend’s sister. Elsa is a co-pilot at Pan Am.”

Maren’s eyes grew big. “Really? That would be amazing.”

“She’s a little hard to get a hold of when she’s out of town but I’ll talk to Anna about it.”

Maren nodded, feeling more hopeful than ever about assembling the identity of the elusive unsub. She quietly chewed on her lunch, when a thought struck her.

“Kristoff… what does Elsa happen to look like?”

“Um, blonde. Blue eyes.”

Maren narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you have a picture?”

“I might actually.” He pulled out his wallet and rifled through the various business cards and photographs until he landed on one. He handed it to her.

“This is from the 4th of July.”

Maren eyed it carefully. She saw two middle-aged people, standing together. A dog was in the center, undoubtedly Sven, with Kristoff knelt next to him. And behind him, were two girls with similar features, obviously sisters. The ginger-haired one smiled widely at the camera.

Maren jumped up from her chair, heart starting to race when her eyes landed on the taller sister. The same shade of blonde. Thin frame. The resemblance to the perp was uncanny. 

“Kristoff, I hate to say it, but I think your girlfriend’s sister is the unsub!”

.  
.  
.

 _Wednesday, November 3 rd, 1965  
59_ _Fjord Blvd, Arendelle_

“Ryder, tell me I’m not crazy.”

Maren was sat on the couch across from Anna and Iduna Aren in their living room, with Ryder next to her. She had a photo album on her lap, looking at the most recent pictures of Elsa Aren. Kristoff stood behind her at the door, exchanging worried glances with Anna.

“I… I don’t know-“ Ryder started. “I didn’t get a close look like you did.” He turned the page and there was a newer photo of Elsa in her uniform. “Wait…”

“It’s her.”

“She definitely looks familiar,” he agreed.

Maren addressed the Arens, “We need to take this picture to the office to make a photocopy.” Then she turned to her colleagues. “As soon as we get back to the city, I want an all-office teletype sent out with this picture.”

Concerned, Iduna stopped them, “Wait- I don’t understand. Elsa has never done anything illegal in her life.”

“I have enough reason to believe that she could be behind a case that I’ve been working on for a year. I just want to take her in for some questioning.” Maren held her hands up. “If your daughter really is who she says then she doesn’t have anything to worry about.”

Ryder stepped in, “Do you have any idea where she is right now?”

At that, Iduna turned to Anna. “You spoke on the phone with your sister this morning.”

“Yeah…” The girl hesitated, biting her lip.

Maren took on a soft tone. “Like I said, I just want to ask her some questions.”

“I mean… I really doubt that Elsa is behind this, so…” Anna exhaled sharply, feeling one of her ugly-crys coming on. “She said she’s in Los Angeles.”

“Do you know which hotel?”

Anna shook her head.

“Do you know when she’s leaving?”

“Yeah, I think she said Friday morning.”

That was two days from now. 

“Okay, okay,” Maren said quickly, beginning to devise a plan. “Let’s try to intercept her at the Los Angeles airport.”

Maren and Ryder rose to shake Iduna and Anna’s hands.

“It’d be for the best if you don’t mention this to Elsa. We’ll do our jobs and I’m sure this matter will be over with quickly.”

.  
.  
.

When the agents left, Anna excused herself and went into her room, shutting the door.

She took the phone by her bedside table and dialed *69.

“ _This is the last-call return service supported by your telephone provider Bell Atlantic. Your last call was with 213 – 873 – 3152. Press 1 to redial.”_

Anna pressed 1. As she listened to the ringing tone in her ear, she nervously paced around the room.

“Hello?”

“Elsa, it's me. I have to talk to you.”

“About what? Is something wrong?”

“ _The FBI was just here._ They were looking for you.”

“W-what?” Elsa uncharacteristically stammered. “They went to your home?”

“They think you’ve done something. They said something about forging cheques.”

Elsa went completely still.

“Elsa?” Anna asked worriedly. “Are you still there?”

“I-I have to go.”

“ _Wait –_ wait. I wanted to tell you that they’re going to Los Angeles to find you. They said they would try to cross paths with you at the airport on Friday and ask you some questions.”

“Okay… Thanks. Don’t worry about it. I’ll clear things up with them. Thanks for calling me.”

“Of course,” Anna agreed.

“Bye-“

The call was over.

Anna looked at the phone in her hands skeptically. If Elsa promised her that everything was okay, then why had she seemed so frantic?

.  
.  
.

_Thursday, November 4 th, 1965  
Federal Bureau of Investigation, 11000 Wilshire Blvd, CA_

Maren and other agents stood around a table in the briefing room of the FBI offices in Los Angeles, having just landed that morning. They were looking down at a map of the LAX airport.

Maren drew various arrows and numbers on the map. “The perp has used this airport before. She knows the layout. So, we need to be vigilant.” The guys nodded in agreement. “The LAPD offered us 50 uniformed cops in two shifts of 25 that will patrol the area. She’s going to enter here and make her way to the security checkpoint. That’s when I want us to approach her.”

“Um, miss?” One of the men spoke up. “Why do we need so many men if we’re just bringing her in for questioning?”

She explained, “Because if she is who I think she is, then she will _not_ talk to us and will stop at nothing to escape. If we’re not careful she just might be able to do so easily.”

.

_Sheraton Hotel, 6101 W Century Blvd, CA_

Elsa had all her things packed, from her drafting tools to her fake payroll cheques. Everything was good to go. She decided against wearing the uniform. It wasn’t necessary for her to wear it. Even though she was leaving a day earlier than planned, she could imagine that the airport was already crawling with Feds. She opted instead to rent a car and drive to San Francisco or San Diego.

And from there she would get on a flight, leaving the country.

She gathered her things and left her hotel room.

On the way to the elevators, she accidentally bumped into a woman when she turned a corner.

“ _Oh_ -“

“I’m sorry!” Elsa apologized. “Pardon me… _wait_. Belle?”

“Elsa,” the woman said happily. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Slightly dazed but pleasantly surprised, Elsa asked, “Did you just land?”

Belle replied, “Yeah, the girls and I just got off a five-hour flight from Mexico City.”

At running into the stewardess, a new escape plan suddenly occurred to Elsa.

“You wouldn’t happen to be flying tomorrow, would you?” she asked Belle.

“Yeah, I am! To London.”

“What a coincidence.” Elsa smiled impishly. “That’s where I’m going too.”

.

_Friday morning, November 5 th, 1965  
Los Angeles International Airport, 1 World Way, CA_

Maren approached the wide glass doors of the Los Angeles airport with the other agents in tow. She ordered the men to go to their posts. The suspect could arrive at any second, so they had to be on high alert.

.

_Sheraton Hotel, 6101 W Century Blvd, CA_

Elsa’s hair was up in a tight bun under her cap. She had her sunglasses on and with her baggage in hand, Elsa piled into the shuttle bus with Belle and the other American Airlines stewardesses. They were all fully dressed in their uniforms, ready to go to the airport.

Belle gestured to Elsa. “Girls, this is Ms. Elsa Chase. She’s deadheading with us to London. Let’s take good care of her today.” The group of flight attendants talked and gossiped with Elsa excitedly.

The airport was only a short drive away from the hotel. The shuttle bus drove down the road, turning into a lane that a sign indicated was for “Departures.” The bus moseyed up a slope, leading to the right terminal.

There, it pulled up to the curb for drop-offs and the stewardesses started to file out of the vehicle.

In the middle of the throng was Elsa.

The group ambled into the terminal casually and Elsa made comfortable chit-chat with Belle next to her, looking as natural and innocent as possible. She made sure that she was always in the center of the group. Her different hairdo made her less identifiable. But she had little reason for worry because the gaggle of attractive stewardesses around her drew all the attention from the people around them.

They passed three completely oblivious FBI agents on their way to the security check.

.

Maren’s walkie talkie buzzed as she paced in front of the check-in counters. She brought it up to her ear and listened to her colleague’s message.

“Nattura, there’s a woman in a Pan Am uniform sitting in a white Ford Shelby Mustang in front of Terminal B.”

“Do you have a view of her face?” asked Maren.

“She’s blonde and she’s got a pilot’s cap on. I think it’s her!”

.

Elsa took off her cap and placed it in the security bin, along with her baggage. She and the girls walked single file through the metal detector. A TSA agent took a moment to frisk her and then she was sent on her way. Elsa linked arms with Belle and smiled to herself as they made their way to the gate.

.

Maren tapped on the window of the white Ford Shelby Mustang.

“FBI, step out of the car,” she demanded.

The door opened and the driver of the car got out, raising her hands over her head. “Please, I’m just a housekeeper at the Sheraton. Someone paid me $200 to put on this costume and pick someone up here at the airport.”

Maren eyed the woman carefully. She was donned in a cheap imitation of a pilot’s uniform. Maren plucked the hat from the lady’s head. It was the right color but the golden wings were missing; the ones that Maren now had laid on her desk at the office, where she stared at them day after day.

“Who are you picking up?” she asked.

The woman reached into the car and took out a sign, the kind you saw at the arrivals area where chauffeurs patiently waited for their clients to land.

She held the sign up for her to see. It simply read, “ _Honeymaren_.”

Maren closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, an exasperated expression overtaking her face.

“Son of a _bitch.”_ She slammed the cap onto the ground.

Elsa Aren was definitely the unsub. 

.  
.  
.

 _Saturday, November 6_ th, _1965_  
_Four Seasons Hotel, Park Ln, London, EN_

 _“_ I _cannot._ Stand _you!”_ shouted the voice of the enraged agent in her ear.

Elsa burst into laughter, absentmindedly twisting the coiled cord of the phone around her finger.

“I’m sorry. I really am-“ she tried to contain her cackling giggles.

“You’re not! I can hear you laughing!!”

“I had to do it to you. I wish I could have been there to see your face.”

“I hope you realize what you’ve done. You’ve made this personal.”

Elsa shrugged. “You were the one who said to make things interesting. So, I did,” she purred.

“I’m guessing your sister, Anna, tipped you off.” When Elsa said nothing, the agent took that as confirmation. “Thought so. Fucking teenagers,” she muttered. 

“Leave her alone. She’s not the one you’re really mad at.”

“I guess that’s true,” agreed Maren. “So, tell me why you went for such a risky escape plan? You could have just avoided the airport entirely and driven to somewhere else.”

“I could have,” Elsa murmured. “But that wouldn’t have been any fun. The opportunity arose, so I took it.”

Then Elsa said lowly, “Besides, you were there so, I had to go.”

She heard the agent’s breathing get shallower as if she had stopped breathing entirely.

“I told you. That flirting tactic isn’t going to work on me.”

“Are you sure about that?”

There was a pregnant pause.

“What’s your name?” asked the agent, who Elsa realized had the most soothing voice she had ever heard.

“Elsa Mary Aren. Until next time, agent.”

Elsa hung up the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part with the addresses is supposed to look like a phonebook but it doesnt really work on mobile XD oh well  
> The next chapter is the last one :O Things get intense for our gal pals.  
> The last chapter is prettyyyy much done. Should be up tomorrow :)


	5. January 1966 and onward...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsa and Maren come face to face again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading!! The steady flow of comments and feedback enriched the writing process for me.  
> I hope that this is a satisfying end to this story.

_January 1966  
Federal Bureau of Investigation, 26 Federal Plaza, NY_

Maren stood in front of the other members of the cheque fraud department, while Ryder commanded the projector.

“She’s invented another new cheque fraud scheme that I’m calling ‘the Switch’. Next slide. She took 250 deposit slips from a savings and loans office in Berlin and encoded her account number on the bottom of each slip. Next slide. Then she put the forged slips back into the savings and loans office. Every person who used one of her slips to make a deposit unknowingly put their money straight into her account.”

“Damn, that’s evil,” commented Ryder.

“It’s genius. This woman is rewriting the book on cheque fraud,” Maren remarked back.

“How much did she steal?”

“Forty-four thousand, one hundred and thirty-two dollars. It was one of the largest bank robberies carried out by a single person in the history of Germany. Next slide.”

The projector made an odd _whirr_ sound before the light burned out completely and the whole room groaned in unison.

.  
.  
.

_Valentine’s Day, February 14 th, 1966  
Federal Bureau of Investigation, 26 Federal Plaza, NY_

For the second year in a row, Maren was in the office late on Valentine’s Day. And she was specifically waiting for the telltale sound of her phone’s ring.

Elsa’s move to make her operation international had done nothing for Maren except frustrate her more. After what had happened in Los Angeles, Maren had been in contact with Pan Am and other American airlines to watch out for a blonde woman impersonating a pilot. But since Los Angeles, Elsa hasn’t been spotted anywhere, most likely having put away the uniform for good.

Papers were strewn all over Maren’s desk. A pen that had exploded lay discarded on the side. Maren rested her head on her arms on her desk and closed her eyes, wanting to doze off for a bit. She never showed this side of her in front of the other agents, but it was becoming increasingly harder to hide. The case was getting to her nerves.

She awoke with a jolt when the phone rang. She yawned wide and answered the call.

“Sounds like you were just sleeping on the job,” said the familiar voice.

“Guilty as charged.” Maren paused before saying, “We’ve all got something that we’re guilty of, right?”

Only silence emitted from the receiver.

“How is your family doing? Anna’s worried about you. She says you didn’t visit during Christmas.”

“You’ve been talking to them?” Elsa asked accusatorily.

“You’ve also stopped sending money, I heard.”

“The FBI would seize it the second it entered her account.”

“So, what’s the plan now?” Maren prodded. “You’re just going to keep stealing and stealing, hoarding a giant pile of cash? Then what? Smuggle it in the US? Pay for everything with bills? Your sister’s tuition? Your rent? Your groceries? You’re a _wanted felon._ Your money is worthless.”

“Can we just-“ Elsa sighed. “Can we just talk about something else? Can we pretend we’re different people? Just for today.”

Maren was taken aback by that. “I get it, you’re scared. You know you’ve run out of options.”

“I’m still getting by.”

“Where are you right now? Let me guess. Barcelona? Or Istanbul?”

There was a tense pause.

“The Bowery Hotel. In East Village. Room 762.”

Maren blinked, bewildered. “What? Here? In New York?” Maren quickly grabbed a pen and wrote down the hotel name and room number on a coffee-stained napkin.

“If you want this to be over, you can let it be over tonight,” stated Elsa matter-of-factly.

Maren paused her scribbling, narrowing her eyes. “You would _love_ that, wouldn’t you? If I called up all my guys and dragged them out of bed in the middle of the night only for you to disappear again and make a fool of the whole department.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve made a fool of you, Maren.”

Maren’s heart almost stopped at the way the woman said her name and had a genuinely sincere inflection in her voice. 

“You don’t need to call all the agents. Just come alone,” suggested Elsa quietly.

Maren held her breath as she considered her options. Elsa was giving her assured victory, served on a silver platter. But there was another part of her that whispered questions and thoughts into her own ear. Questions that would only be answered if she spent time with Elsa alone, in secret, and in trust.

If the fraudster was capable of trust at all…

“Room 762?” Maren asked for confirmation.

“Yes. Don’t keep me waiting long.”

The call ended and all Maren heard was the dial tone in her ear.

.  
.  
.

_The Bowery Hotel, 335 Bowery, NY_

Elsa sat in her hotel room, with the curtains drawn closed and poured herself a glass of Prosecco. The only light in the room came from the lamp on the table beside her. Her eyes were trained on the front door of the suite. She expected it to get kicked down at any moment by a squad of police officers and Feds. She expected a symphony of police sirens to approach the hotel at any second.

She also expected no one to show up at all.

When there were three heavy knocks at the door, Elsa rose from her seat. She rested her forehead against the door, admitting she needed to accept whatever or whoever stood behind it.

She opened the door and saw in front of her, not 30, not 20, not even a dozen armored cops. Only one person stood there, holding her jacket and wearing a clean white button-down, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and a black tie. Warm, bronze-colored eyes stared at her in surprise, and Elsa knew her expression must look much the same.

“I didn’t think you would actually be here.”

Elsa noted how _familiar_ the agent’s voice sounded to her ears. It was pleasurable to hear Maren’s voice up close, unfiltered by any static crackles or the tin-like quality of her hotel room phone.

“Why are you here?” asked Elsa.

“To put you under arrest,” said Maren, though her voice held no threatening cadence.

“I see… Is that all you want to do to me?”

Now Maren couldn’t help darting her eyes down to Elsa’s lips.

She shook her head. “No.”

The next second, their lips crashed together. Elsa pulled Maren into the room by her tie and shut the door. Maren dropped her jacket, putting her arms around Elsa. Maren’s lips were full and pillowy against her own. And Maren’s hands on her back were delicate, even when she moved one hand up to curl her finger’s around Elsa’s neck, deepening the kiss. It was something that Elsa had observed about Maren from the beginning. Maren didn’t have any sharp edges. Elsa only thought, if she pressed Maren close enough to herself, maybe the woman could melt some of her own edges away.

Maren was drunk off the taste of golden bubbly Prosecco on Elsa’s lips. It was either that or the sleep deprivation that kept any common sense at bay. She moaned breathily when she felt Elsa’s tongue graze over her bottom lip. Maren took Elsa’s mouth fully into a heated and snaring kiss. Elsa’s hands slid between their bodies, in the little gap that was left, and pulled Maren’s tie loose with nimble fingers, dropping it onto the floor.

Not disconnecting their locked lips, Elsa walked Maren in the direction of the large bed. She pushed Maren down onto it and crawled up after her, their lips unrelenting as they met again. They wouldn’t stop. They knew they couldn’t. Stopping would rupture their paper-thin game of pretend, popping it like a bubble. Their hair spilling out onto crisp sheets like chocolate and vanilla, their fervent kisses and touching held them together, not unlike a web of lies.

Giving in to the need that grew in her body, that pooled in the pit of her stomach and between her legs, Maren slipped her hands up Elsa’s blouse, cupping her hands over her breasts and giving them soft, precursory squeezes. Elsa placed one of her hands on top of Maren’s, encouraging her gently, welcoming the touch of the other woman with eagerness.

Maren parted her lips slightly more and Elsa kissed her passionately, pulling her plump bottom lip between hers and sucking gently. Briskly, Elsa sat up, swinging her hair over one shoulder and straddled Maren between her legs. Elsa’s hands moved deftly and undid the belt around Maren’s trousers, the metal of the buckle clinking quietly alongside the sound of raspy, heavy breathing as they two caught their breath. Dizzily, Maren kicked off her shoes and they audibly clunked onto the floor. The heat between Maren’s legs intensified as she watched Elsa unbutton her pants and tug them down her legs along with her underwear.

Elsa slid her slender body over Maren’s again, looking down at her with lidded eyes, pupils blown wide. Maren was arrested under her gaze. Elsa’s hand slipped between their bodies, but she didn’t touch her yet where Maren really needed her. Instead, she lightly scratched and ran her fingers over Maren’s hip.

It was once Maren gave her permission that their night truly began.

.  
.  
.

Maren awoke to the sound of a voice talking cordially on the phone. Her head felt heavy, throbbing at her temples. Reluctantly, she forced her eyes open, the bright light from the open curtains was almost blinding. Her gaze landed on the empty, discarded bottles of Prosecco and wine around the room and remembered why her head felt like it was full of swarming bees. Sleepily, Maren also realized that her wrist felt sore and aching, where it was stretched out next to her. She pulled herself up against the headboard, but her wrist was practically locked in place. Maren’s stomach dropped when she saw that Elsa had handcuffed her to the bed frame while she had been asleep. Maren cursed out loud, drawing the attention of Elsa.

Elsa sauntered into the bedroom of the suite, phone in her hand, the cord dragging behind her.

“Yes, this is Ms. Chase from Suite 762. I would be most appreciative if you could send up some housekeeping. I need assistance with a mess I made last night.”

Elsa ended her call and smirked at the dazed form of the agent on the bed.

“When you had said ‘sexual roleplay,’ I didn’t think you meant it literally,” quipped Maren.

Elsa shrugged, suddenly seeming small to Maren in the door frame.

“You never answered my question properly last night,” commented Elsa.

“Which one?”

“Why did you come here?”

“I remember answering that-“

“Not honestly, though. _Why_ did you come?”

Maren sighed. “Because I had a question of my own. Why _the hell_ are you still running?”

Elsa’s eyes bore into her, revealing nothing.

Maren pressed her for an answer, “Is that what you’re going to do now? You’re just going to leave me here and keep running? Away from your family, from accountability, from _justice_??”

Elsa’s jaw started to work up and down, like she was trying to keep herself contained from shouting or crying or both.

“I think you called me last night because you _do_ want it to be over. I can see you and you’re tired of this.”

Elsa shook her head unremittingly. “I’m not ashamed of who I am.” She turned around, walking away from the agent and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Elsa! _Elsa!”_ Maren yelled, the handcuff rattling against the bedframe.

The only response she got was the sound of the door slamming closed.

.  
.  
.

_July 1966  
Shangri-La, Shanghai, CN_

Elsa finished dialing the number where she sat with a phone, poolside on the patio of a high-rise, overlooking the skyscrapers of the city.

The phone rang enough times that Elsa wondered if he was out or taking a nap.

But then the call was picked up and she heard his voice, clear as day.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Father, it’s me.”

“Oh,” he chuckled. “I’m surprised to hear from you.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Where are you?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“As if I would ever snitch on you.”

“Hmm. How’s mother? How’s Anna?”

“Well, upset would be the right word on both accounts. You missed Anna’s birthday and our fourth of July fest. It was a big one this year.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“That nice guy, Kristoff, asked our Anna to marry him.”

Elsa’s heart jumped up into her throat.

“He did?”

“She accepted… She really wanted you to be there.”

Elsa squeezed her eyes closed and cursed like she had venom in her mouth.

“I- _shit-_ How can I make it up to her?”

Her father was silent. She feared he would say it’s too late. She couldn’t do anything. She was better off never showing her face in Arendelle again. She should just flee to Tibet, shave her head, and become a monk.

Thankfully, he just seemed to be choosing the right words. “I think you could start by calling her. She’ll listen to what you have to say.”

“I’ll have to see…” is the response that Elsa settled on, knowing that calling her mother and sister was risky since they were now in contact with the FBI. “Did you get my package?”

“I did but… it’s not nearly enough.”

Elsa blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I just received a letter from the IRS. They want even more money. They’re draining me of every last drop in the tank. I have half a mind to sue them.”

“Sue them?” asked Elsa incredulously. 

“What they’re doing to me is unethical.”

Elsa closed her eyes and hugged herself like she did when she was anxious. “I- I can’t-“ She was starting to hyperventilate. “I have to go. I’ll call you soon.” She subsequently hung up the phone and cradled her head in her hands. Tears started to stream down her face that glistened in the light when she looked up at the sun setting over the city landscape.

.

Maren stood at the window of the office. She had just gotten to work and was draining the last bit of coffee out of her mug. She was staring out the window, at the open blue sky in front of her. It was one of those rare days where there wasn’t a single cloud in sight - just a wide expanse of blue, an infinite blanket.

Maren had heard that some people fear an open blue sky like this one. They feared that if they stared up at it too long, they would fall in, being swallowed whole.

Standing there, Maren wondered if that was how Elsa felt every day of her life.

.  
.  
.

 _New Year’s Eve 1966  
59_ _Fjord Blvd, Arendelle_

Anna bolted upright from where she was making her bed when she heard the phone ring. It was early in the morning. She had a busy day ahead of her, with Kristoff’s entire family coming over for dinner to celebrate the New Year together.

“Hello, this is the Aren residence,” answered Anna sweetly.

“Anna. It’s so good to hear your voice.”

Anna’s heart stopped beating and she dropped the phone. It dangled from its cord and Anna threw her hands over her mouth in shock.

Anna hadn’t heard from Elsa since the call where she had warned her about the Feds going to Los Angeles.

Not a single letter or phone call in over a year.

“ _Anna?? Please come back-“_ heard Anna faintly from the dangling phone.

She picked it up and stuttered, “Elsa… I don’t even know what to say to you. After all this time- I don’t even know what to say!”

“I know I’m-“

“I’m mad, I’m angry, I’m pissed off!” Anna cried. “But I’m also so sad. You _make me sad_ every day!”

“I know, Anna. Please just let me explain. I’m sad too _._ ”

Anna halted the words streaming out of her when she heard wet sniffles and quiet weeping emit from Elsa on the other end of the line.

“Did father ever tell you the story of the two mice?” asked Elsa desperately.

“No, he didn’t,” Anna replied quizzically.

“He told me once, that there were two mice who fell into a bucket of cream. The first mouse didn’t make it, but the second mouse struggled so hard that he churned the cream into butter and crawled out.”

Anna sighed, “That’s a very Agnarr thing to say.”

“And then I said, ‘well what about the third mouse who comes to help the other two mice?’” Elsa paused to gather herself. “Father’s decision left all of us to fend for ourselves. Everything that I’ve done since I left home was for our family. I wanted you to still get all the things that you’ve always dreamed about.”

“ _Elsa_ , have you lost your mind? The car, the apartment, college- I am more than ready to give up _all_ of those things. I was ready the day you left and I’m still ready now.”

“Going to college was always important to you. Since we were kids-”

“Life changes things, sometimes unexpectedly. I’m okay with adapting. _Really_. I have Kristoff. My job is steady. I could still get a higher education one day! I might end up being the oldest person there but… things happen in their own time. Kristoff and I want kids, you know? I’m okay with where my life is going.”

Elsa exhaled into the phone. “I just wanted… _God_ ,” Elsa’s voice shook. “I am _just_ like father.”

Anna took a big breath and said the words she had been hoping to say to her sister for a long time, “Come home _._ Elsa, please. I want to see you. I want you to be part of the family again.”

“…I would go to prison if I go home,” Elsa said quietly, helplessly. “I’m in Paris right now. Come visit.”

“In Paris?” Anna balked. 

“Come tonight. I left some cash under the floorboards in the guest bedroom for emergencies. Use that and spend New Year’s with me.”

“Elsa… you know that I can’t. Kristoff’s family is coming over.”

“I’m at Hôtel Mercure. Room 989. It has this beautiful view of the Eiffel Tower. After our call, I’m going to go to a bakery by the Seine that has these amazing chocolate truffles.”

“I admit, the truffles are tempting.”

“Room 989. Please, Anna.”

“…I’ll see what I can do.”

.  
.  
.

 _Hôtel Mercure,_ _20 Rue Jean Rey, Paris, FR_

Elsa sipped on her champagne – it was New Year’s Eve after all- and sat regally in a chair, positioned so that she could look out the window at the view she had mentioned on the phone. It was even more breathtaking at night. The lights were all off in the room so that she could enjoy the dazzling lights of the tower and the full moon that hung suspended in the sky.

It was nearly midnight and she knew a flight from John F. Kennedy airport in New York took seven hours to get to Paris-Charles De Gaulle, the airport in Paris. She was expecting her company to arrive at any moment.

When she heard three raps at her door, she didn’t move to open it right away. She poured herself another glass of champagne and downed half of it in one go. Just when the knocking got stronger and harsher, she walked over to the door.

She opened it to the sight of ten uniformed federal officers and French policemen.

Elsa held up her glass and taunted the one in the center, “Come to celebrate?”

Maren took her hand, forcing the glass to fall out of it, breaking on the floor. Maren moved around her, and she felt her hands get locked one by one into a pair of handcuffs. “You’re under arrest for fraud, theft, cheating and impersonating, resisting arrest, and for fleeing and eluding. You have the right to remain silent…”

Maren continued reciting the Miranda warning to Elsa as she was pushed into the hallway and led to the elevators. All the way from the now vacant hotel room to the parked police cruiser outside, Maren kept a stable hand on Elsa’s back.

Sitting in the backseat of the French police car, Elsa tilted her head back and released a sigh of relief that she had been holding in her body for nearly three years.

.  
.  
.

_January 1967  
Attica Correctional Facility, 639 Exchange St, NY_

Maren walked into the maximum-security prison with her briefcase in hand. She was shown into the visiting room by a correctional officer and sat down in one of the cheap plastic chairs.

A buzzer sound rung throughout the room and Elsa was led into her side of the visitation area. She was in an orange jumpsuit and her hands were shackled together. A guard released her restraints before she took a seat across from Maren, a glass panel separating them.

They both picked up their phones so that they could communicate. All things considered, it was similar to their usual routine.

“Hello agent,” Elsa said simply.

“Hello jailbird,” Maren replied.

“I honestly didn’t know if I would ever see you again after the trial.” Elsa looked down. “I’m glad that wasn’t the end.”

Maren heart warmed at that. “I’m here for both business and pleasure. Which do you want to discuss first?”

“Pleasure,” Elsa smirked.

At that, Maren leaned forward.

“Why’d you do it?” she questioned plainly.

“What? The fraud?” asked Elsa confused.

“Why did you turn yourself in?”

Elsa gawked at Maren strangely. “I didn’t turn myself in. You caught me.”

“Don’t play dumb,” stated Maren, a knowing grin on her face. “You essentially handed yourself over when you called Anna and revealed your location.”

“I didn’t know she would rat me out-“

“Yes, you did. In fact, you were counting on it. We searched your room in Paris. All you had was a suitcase with two outfits. One for during the day and one for sleeping. You weren’t living. You weren’t forging cheques anymore. You wanted out.”

Elsa dropped Maren’s gaze. “I didn’t want to surrender. You _had to_ catch me. I wanted to give you that after all I put you through.”

“Yeah… I got a promotion out of it by the way…” Maren got butterflies in her stomach when Elsa’s expression grew radiant.

“I’m really happy to hear that,” Elsa said sincerely.

Maren turned to her briefcase. “So, the other thing is-“ She clicked the case open and pulled out a cheque. “There’s a paperhanger who’s working their way through Louisiana. I’m not sure how to get him.”

“Let me see.”

Maren pressed the cheque against the glass so that Elsa could see it clearly.

“I know it’s a counterfeit but-“

Elsa interrupted, “It’s a bank teller.”

“What?”

Elsa pointed to the cheque. “Banks use stamps for the date. Stamps that get punched by hand. Bank stamps are always worn down because they get used all the time, every day. Eventually, the numbers start to crack. The 9s and 6s wear down first because they have those thin tails. The ink on this cheque is flat as if the stamp is completely worn and all the 9s and 6s are cracked. I’d say it’s someone on the inside. Someone who works at the bank.”

Maren gaped before saying, “Thanks… I’ll look into that theory.”

Elsa leaned back and looked the woman over. “Anna and mother came to see me the other day. They hate seeing me like this. But maybe it’s better than not seeing me at all,” Elsa murmured.

Maren paused before delicately asking, “Elsa, are you okay?”

Elsa chuckled humorlessly. “You know, at first, I _really_ thought I was doing the right thing. But then, I just kept going because I didn’t want to face the things I’d done. In here, there’s nowhere to go. I have to face myself every day. Honesty is making me her bitch.” Elsa sighed. “But yeah. I’m okay. The time alone will be good for me.”

“The judge gave you an 18-year sentence.” Maren sorrowfully shook her head. “I didn’t want this for you.”

Elsa looked into the other woman’s eyes. “I know that. I’ve known that since our night together in New York. I hope there are no hard feelings…”

Maren settled the matter by saying, “There never were. We both played the roles we were meant to play. We’re even now. You did what you did in Paris for me as much as you did it for yourself.”

Elsa pressed her hand against the glass. “So, you’ve come here and gotten your answers. Now… what comes next?”

The only reason why Maren didn’t put her hand onto the glass over Elsa’s was because of the guards watching.

“Do you want me to visit again?”

“For business or for pleasure?”

“A little bit of both.” Maren smiled.

“…I’ll take both.” Elsa returned her smile.

.  
.  
.

_One Year Later – 1968  
Attica Correctional Facility, 639 Exchange St, NY_

Maren walked into the prison with Matthias in tow, knowing the layout and entry procedure by heart having come here dozens of times since Elsa was apprehended. In the year that had gone by Maren had struck up a friendship with the Arens. Her brother was Kristoff’s best friend. Kristoff was now inextricably linked to the Arens through Anna. They were an unlikely bunch that life had strangely brought together. The only person that was missing was Elsa.

Maren sat together with Matthias across from Elsa in a room for more personal meetings. Elsa was chained to the table and two guards stood at bay with rifles. Maren almost rolled her eyes at the sight. As if Elsa could or would ever hurt anyone.

“Hi Maren.” Elsa nodded to Matthias. “Who’s your friend?”

“Elsa, this is Matthias, my boss at the FBI; the chief of Financial Crimes. He has a few questions for you.” Maren gestured to Matthias, letting the man take over.

He pulled a cheque out of his briefcase and handed it to Elsa. “What can you tell me about this cheque?”

Elsa took it and quizzically shrugged her shoulders. “It’s a fake payroll cheque. It doesn’t have a perforated edge which tells me that it was cut by hand. The paper is too heavy. Banks don’t use double-bonded paper like this.” Elsa ran her fingertips over the surface. She scoffed, “The ink is raised like braille. It’s supposed to be flat to the touch.” Elsa then sniffed the cheque. “It smells like drafting ink instead of MICR ink.”

Maren turned to Matthias, remarking, “I told you that she’s an expert.”

Elsa passed the fake cheque back to the agents. “What is this all about?”

Matthias leaned forward onto his elbows. “Miss Aren, I’ve come here today to offer you a job at the FBI, given your ‘expertise’. Agent Nattura and Agent Bjorgman have both vouched that you’re of good character.”

An expression of surprise painted over Elsa’s features. “You want _me_ to work for you?”

Matthias confirmed this, “You would still be in the custody of the state, serving the remainder of your sentence by working for the government. This is a one-time offer.”

“You’re taking me out of prison?” Elsa asked in disbelief.

Maren added, “You’d come to work, every day from 8 am to 5 pm. You’d get a salary. You can’t leave the state or country without special permission. But you get to have a desk next to me, Ryder, and Kristoff in the office. How does that sound?”

There was no hesitation in her mind.

“I’m in.”

.  
.  
.

_Federal Bureau of Investigation, 26 Federal Plaza, NY_

“My name is Elsa Mary Aren. From 1964 to 1967 I successfully impersonated an airline pilot for Pan Am Airways and I flew over two million miles for free. By the time I was caught and sentenced to prison, I had cashed over six million dollars in fraudulent checks, and I did it all before my 25th birthday.”

Elsa confidently said the first lines of her introduction as she looked at her new co-workers in the room, her posture straight and her hands clasped behind her back.

With Elsa, things could change in an instant- were you too slow, too easily distracted, or even too overconfident, you could miss it. That moment she switched from playing her game to exposing her winning card. Just like that, you lost your chance.

She leaned forward on her arms on the desk made of steel. It was cold under her fingertips. The feeling made her fingers arch slightly, like a kitty cat with its claws out. Her autocratic stance matched her serious tone while also being reminiscent of the arrogance that resided in her during her worst of times.

Elsa continued her introduction, “And I’m going to help you solve every case that comes through this office and catch every fraudster that dares to steal under our noses…”

Her eyes flicked around the room as she spoke but when she landed on one pair of eyes in particular, her sentence trailed off. Hazel brown eyes stared back at her. The woman who had changed her life. The woman who had brought her here. The woman who had driven her mad day after day. The woman who had chased her to the end of the Earth and back.

The woman who had saved her.

Elsa stood up straight again. Any egotism she had been carrying fell from her face like a broken mask. She spoke the last words she had been meaning to say, had those brown eyes not suspended the words from spilling over the apex of her tongue.

_“… if I can.”_

.  
.  
.

Maren held a magnifying glass, looking at a cheque on her desk. Elsa had rolled her chair over and the two were discussing the case.

“Mind if I take a look?”

Maren passed her colleague the magnifier and she couldn’t help but notice that Elsa had put perfume on that morning. Having Elsa so close without a panel of glass between them made the hairs on Maren’s arms stand up. She scratched her neck nervously, waiting for Elsa to make a comment about the cheque.

“It’s a real cheque. But it’s been washed. The only thing that’s original is the signature.”

Maren nodded, “It’s a near-perfect finish job.”

“No hydrochloride or bleach. It’s something new. Any theories?” asked Elsa, handing the magnifier back.

“My guess is this perp steals real cheques out of mailboxes. They wash off the recipient’s name, change the amount and cash it into their own account.”

Elsa looked impressed. “Hm, wish I had thought of that.”

Maren gave her a look and punched her in the arm. “Shut up, you were enough of a pain in the butt as it was.”

Elsa looked at the clock. “Do you want to get lunch together?”

Maren warmly smiled. “Sure.”

They talked casually over lunch in the break room.

“How’s your father doing?” Maren asked curiously as she sat down, placing her reheated slice of pizza onto the table.

“He’s doing good. He’s back at square one with the IRS but my job here is helping him with that.”

“Are you living with Anna and your mother?”

“Yeah-“ Elsa said in between bites of a sandwich. “It’s a little cramped. They had to move back to their old, smaller apartment. Since the government seized everything that was paid for with my stolen funds.”

“You take the train to the city every day? How long does that take?”

“Over an hour. But it’s better than still being in prison.”

“You know…” Maren said, chewing her food thoughtfully. “My apartment has room for two.”

Elsa stilled instantly. “Do you mean… for you and me?”

“Yeah,” Maren tried to say indifferently. “If you want more space- It’d be less cramped than with your mother and sister. You don’t have to move if you don’t want to, of course. I just thought I’d mention it.”

Slowly, Elsa nodded her head. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes- I’d like that.”

“Great… Okay. I’ll clear out some drawers for you.”

.  
.  
.

_The Summer Solstice, June 21 st, 1968   
Northuldra Territory, NY_

Sounds of singing and peals of laughter emanated from between the white birch and tall evergreen trees of the forest. Beyond the lake that was said to be home to a mythical water creature, and past the river where water flowed down from the North Mountain, lived a small community of indigenous people in the forest. It was where Maren, Ryder, Iduna had grown up. Like them, many people left the forest for jobs or higher education but on special occasions, everyone returned to the forest.

As Iduna looked around, she realized that the forest had never lost its magic.

White fairy lights hung from the trees, sparkling like crystals, multiple fires were lit that people sat around with smores, and music was being played by a small band using instruments from their culture. Familiar smells of burnt sage, honeysuckle tea, and rich stews filled the air. It felt like coming home.

She turned when she felt Elsa touch her shoulder.

“This place is beautiful. Why did you never bring us here?” Elsa asked her.

Iduna wistfully shook her head. “I think life just got ahead of me.”

Elsa looked at her with a twinkle in her eye. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Elsa, have you tried this cake thing?” Anna said animatedly as she slid across the loose earth to sidle up next to her sister and mother. “It kind of tastes like crème brûlée but it looks like cornbread.”

“This was my favorite dessert growing up,” remarked Iduna. Anna shared the rest of her pastry with them and then wiped her hands clean on her dress.

“Mother and I were just talking about finally being here,” said Elsa to Anna.

Iduna walked further through the grove and put her hand to a tree trunk, feeling the rough bark under her hand. “I feel so at peace here.”

The sisters exchanged a look at seeing their mother glow like a newly kindled fire.

Elsa started, “Mother, in a few months Anna will be married and living with Kristoff. I’m living in the city already. When the time comes, don’t you think you would be more comfortable here instead of living by yourself in Arendelle?”

Iduna turned around, looking at them. “I… I haven’t lived here in so many years.”

Anna walked forward, putting her hands on her mother’s shoulders. “Does that matter? Being here makes you happy, not Arendelle.”

Iduna started to nod her head. “When did you two grow up so fast?” she laughed and wiped a tear from her eye. Then she hugged her daughters, one after the other.

Anna and Elsa stood together, watching their mother return to the gathering by the fire, going back to old friends.

Anna playfully bumped Elsa’s shoulder with her own and commented, “This is nice, isn’t it?”

“It sure is.” At that moment, Elsa caught Maren’s eye who was roasting a marshmallow and waved at her. Maren winked back before offering her charred marshmallow to Ryder next to her.

Anna noticed the exchange. “So, how is it being ‘roommates’?” Anna asked putting air quotes around the last word. Elsa had confided in Anna about the real nature of her relationship with Maren. She wanted to tell the whole family eventually. The greatest hurdle was simply saying the words.

She was in love with the woman that she lived with.

Anna continued, “I’m just asking because most couples that I know don’t live _and_ work together.”

Elsa chuckled lightly. “I don’t think there’s anything about me and Maren that makes us like ‘most couples’. But living together feels right. My life now is more than anything I could have imagined when I was in prison. I wake up and I still can’t believe that this is really my life,” said Elsa with a happy, yet introspective tone.

Suddenly, Anna side-hugged her. “Thanks for spending my birthday with me.”

Elsa hugged her tight. “Oh Anna, I owe you so much more than just birthdays.” She pulled away, looking into her sister’s turquoise eyes. “I’ve been thinking about that story that I once told, about the mice. All along, I was the one drowning. I could have struggled for the rest of my life and gotten nowhere. But you and Maren pulled me out.”

“Do you remember what mother used to sing to us? ‘ _When all is lost, then all is found’_. I think she was onto something there. There was a time when it felt like our lives and our family were falling apart. But I think it was destiny’s way of bringing us to where we were meant to be.”

“I think you’re right,” Elsa agreed.

Living alone and isolated in random hotels and seeing her family rarely had put an immense emotional toll on Elsa. Skewing her scheme into an image of success took her down a path that she had grown increasingly more ashamed of. What had made prison bearable was the knowledge that she had managed to do the right thing by ending the lies. It had made it easier to look in the mirror every day.

When she had been lying on her bunk in her cell, Elsa had expected her redemption story to end there.

Luckily, Maren had thought differently.

That night, Elsa and Maren jumped off the train, scampering across streets lit by streetlamps. While hundreds of stars had shone in the sky at the forest, none of them were visible in the city, as if they had been wiped away by a giant eraser. Looking up at the blank night sky now, Elsa missed them. She had so much more appreciation for the little things. Maren once joked that the stars reminded her of Elsa’s freckles. Now the stars always remind her of Maren.

They got to their apartment building, in which they lived on the top floor. There was no elevator, so the stairs made for a challenging obstacle after a tiresome day at work.

But today, there was no such tire, no such irritation at the stairs. 

“Race you,” Maren dared.

“As if you could outrun me.”

They took off, bounding up the staircase as fast as their legs could carry them. Towards the top, the two were showing signs of running out of breath, not made easier by how they playfully laughed and jostled each other on the way up.

They reached the top by their front door at the same time and bent over, gasping for air.

“I totally won that,” quipped Maren, leaning against the wall for support.

“You totally didn’t,” teased Elsa back. “My foot touched the top step first.”

“You pushed me on the way up. You should be disqualified for that.”

Elsa gasped. “Only because you pushed me first!”

They unlocked and entered the apartment, still bantering about who won. They never settled on a winner, simply deciding a redo was necessary later.

Once they had started to live together, they knew they weren’t ever going to be apart again. It felt good to have a real purpose and kissing Maren was just too sweet to imagine ever giving up. When Elsa looked back on her time as a criminal, she realized while she had been alone, the experience was shared. Maren had been on the other side of it. In a way, it was something they went through together. It was something that not anyone, not time, nor power could take away from them.

They kept the lights off and Elsa poured them two glasses of wine before going to stand on the balcony with Maren. Maren took her glass, cradling it in her hand and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath in of the crisp, cool air.

Elsa looked at Maren, studying the woman’s profile. The curve of her button nose was adorable. Her eyelashes were long and fluttered open. In the darkness of night, her irises were like dark chocolate. She caught Elsa staring at her.

“What?” Maren asked, a smirk growing on her face.

“Nothing,” Elsa said simply.

They continued to stand on the balcony, quietly chatting about this and that. After finishing the last of their drinks, they closed the balcony doors and made their way into bed. Under the soft covers, Elsa pulled Maren’s arm around herself, wanting to be the little spoon. Maren obliged, turning on her side and cuddling Elsa, burying her nose in the woman’s back.

Snug as a bug. Safe and sound.

Technically speaking, Elsa was still a prisoner of the state.

But…

She was free.

.  
.  
.

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they were roommates XD  
> Thank you for getting to the end! Would love to know your thoughts! I hope you liked that as much as I liked writing it. I'm actually kind of sad to end this story ahaa :']  
> Until next time. Peace!


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